Only Time Will Tell
by xFlipperx
Summary: Sequel to Hear the Bells in Brooklyn......Brooklyn Pulitzer turned her back on the only life she had ever truly loved. She turned and ran at the venom of his words. But why did Rookie do it? Because Spot said it, that's why. If it had been anyone else...
1. Absolutely: Story of a Girl

Once Upon a Broken Heart

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Chapter One:: Story of a Girl

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Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. All I own are my own characters and the plot. Anything you recognize from the movie is not mine.

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Author's Note:

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Well, here it is! The second installment to "Hear the Bells in Brooklyn". I hope you enjoy chapter one!__

"Fine," she said, scooping Bear up into her arms. She took a step closer to him, acting as cool, calm and collected as possible, even though she wanted to scream and kick him below the suspenders. "But you won't last the night." Before Spot could mutter 'What?', Rookie took her free arm and sent a left-hook into his jaw, using all the strength she had. And, with tears streaming down her cheeks, with Spot momentarily stunned, she turned on her heel and did the only thing she could.

She ran. She ran straight for the Brooklyn Bridge.

Rookie didn't have time to think, she just ran. She couldn't stop running. She had already hit the Brooklyn Bridge, there was no turning back now. The winter air held no affect on her lungs, even on her deepest gulps of air. People stared as she passed, put she paid no mind to them, just kept her eyes focused straight ahead of her.

When she reached the peak of the bridge, she was forced to stop. The cramps in her side felt as if she was being stabbed by ten knives. A sickening feeling reached her stomach, she felt as if she was going to throw-up over the railing. She placed Bear down at her feet and gripped the freezing iron to steady herself, breathing heavily. She watched her chest fall up and down for a few breaths before taking a sidelong glance back towards Manhattan.

No one had followed her, no one that she could see. She sighed and nodded her head against the railing, becoming aware of her trembling legs. Never had she ever had to run for that long; never had she needed to push them to the limit of her body in a fleeting mixture of anger and fear. Looking to Brooklyn, she realized that she still had a bit of a journey.

Pushing herself off the railing, she scooped Bear up and started off again, continuing her previous sprint. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she set her mind on the mansion she had once called her cage.

Her cage. She was like a mouse heading for cheese at the back of a cage. Sure, she would get the comfort of living her old life, but there she would be trapped.

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But that's where you belong,

she thought bitterly. _According to Spot, at least._

Wait.

Why did she care so much about what Spot Conlon thought of her? Sure, he had called her a _slut,_ but why did she care? She could have just turned around and walked back into the Lodging House, vowing never to speak to him again. But she didn't. She did just what he told her too, just what he wanted.

It was all she could do to keep her hot tears only trickle, instead of letting them flood down her cheeks. She wiped them on Wish's fur (the pup didn't mind, she thought she was getting pat), and kept running.

She paused at the end of the bridge only momentarily, looking around at the Brooklyn Docks. Thankfully, they were deserted. Hopefully, she wouldn't be stopped by any newsie wondering why she was in their territory. Not-to-mention, she had just punched their leader.

And then she saw a familiar newsie, beginning a walk down -alone- one of the far docks. A chill ran up her spine and she sped up, closing her eyes and praying briefly that she wouldn't be seen. It was Echo, and after their confrontation a week and a half ago, Rookie didn't want to stir anything up. "Please don't let her see me," Rookie mumbled under her breath, stealing glances at the newsgirl. Echo didn't move. She just sat there, staring out at the river.

When Rookie was well out of range, she slowed to a walk and leaned on the side of a building, placing Bear down. The pup did her business, causing Rookie to relocate them, incase the owner of the building saw it. She figured they wouldn't be too happy, whoever they were.

She slipped into a tight-spaced alley to take a breath, placing a hand on her side and wincing. Pain shot through her sides, and her legs ached as if someone was pulling on them. She leaned her head up against the brick wall, closing her eyes. She looked up at the small crack of sky that was showing between the buildings. The sky was darkening, she had to get back to her mansion fast.

She turned out of the alley, keeping a fast walk as not to seem too conspicuous to the few people out in the frigid January temperatures. Bear whined loudly to be picked up, and after receiving a few disapproving looks from those that she passed, she picked the pup up and silenced her.

It was almost fully dark by the time she reached the mansion. She stared up at it, a battle within herself taking place. To go in or not to go in…that was the question at hand. What made her think that her family would take her back? What made her think she wouldn't be thrown out on the streets like an unwanted pet? Why the hell did she ever leave Manhattan? Because Spot was mean to her?

Spot was right, she didn't belong in the newsies. Any other newsie would have fought the Brooklyn King or walked away. But not her. Cowardly her. Stupid her. She sucker-punched him and ran; ran right back to the life she had been trapped in. Ran right back into the cage that the Manhattan newsies had risked everything to keep her out of. And look what she did to them.

Rookie refused to let herself cry again. At this point, there was no going back. So tentatively, she took the first step up the stone stair to the front door. Then her second, third and fourth. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye to her, she was at the door, staring at the golden knocker incrusted with gold vines around the name; PULITZER.

She saw her reflection in the glass of the window and shuddered. Her hair was a wreck, mud smeared on her rosy cheek. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and her nose was red from sniffling. Quickly she put Bear down and removed her hat. She pulled her hair out of the braid and brushed it down as best she could with her fingers. She then replaced her hat and went to work on her cheek. When she felt she looked mildly decent, she took a deep, quivering breath and knocked on the door twice. She pulled her hat down, so her eyes were barely visible, but she could see fine.

She waited for what seemed like forever to hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. As the footsteps got closer and closer, it hit her. She had no story, not explanation, no excuses for anything. Her disappearance, the note she left, why she pretended not to be Brooklyn when Cal visited the Lodging House and why she came back. She tried to think quickly, but her mind was in turmoil. And then the thought came to her, the perfect explanation and the perfect revenge.

She would just blame it all on Spot. Now she wouldn't be a backstabber and go back on him, she wouldn't sink to his level. She would just make it seem that it was all his fault. Yeah, that sounded like quite the plan to Rookie.

When the door opened, every single muscle in her wanted to jump off the steps and sprint down the street, back to Manhattan. But no, it was too late for that. She had made her decision -rather, Spot had made it for her- and she was going to honor it. So she stood her ground and met the eyes of Antoinette's personal maid.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, looking from Rookie to Bear in a sweeping, disgusted glance. "How can I help you? The Pulitzers _don't_ give out donations."

"It's not a donation I'm looking for, Caroline," Rookie replied, watching the maid's eyes widen in surprise at the mention of her name. "I'm looking for my mother."

"Wha-?" Rookie removed her hat and looked Caroline straight in the eye, stopping the maid before she could properly form a sentence. "B…Br…Brooklyn?" she stuttered, her mouth dropping open. "Is that you?"

"Does my mother have any other blonde daughters I should know about?" Rookie replied with a forced, sarcastic smile. The maid shook her head, at loss for words. She simply opened the door wider and motioned for Rookie to enter the foyer. With a moment's hesitation, Rookie complied with the silent welcoming. She scooped Bear into her arms and walked in the front door.

"Stay here, miss," Caroline said firmly as she closed the door behind Rookie. "I will go retrieve the Missus." Rookie nodded, feeling her own heart beat wildly against her chest. She watched as the maid walked away and placed the sleeping Bear on the floor. The pup promptly woke up and began whining. Rookie groaned inwardly and bent down to pick her up. That was when she heard the sound of four little feet running across the stone flooring.

A smile formed from ear to ear across her face as she saw a little ginger-colored terrier trot into the room. "Rose!" she exclaimed, kneeling down on the floor with her arms wide open. The dog perked her ears and began barking madly. Bear stood up, even at her young age she towered over the small dog. But both Rookie and Rose ignored her playful stance. The terrier ran straight to Rookie and began sniffing her all over. After the dog had confirmed that this was in fact her owner, it began yelping and jumped into Rookie's lap.

"Oh Rose! It's good to see you too!" Rookie could hardly believe that she had only been away from her dog hardly a month and a half, and she had missed her so. Bear joined in, wiggling about and licking Rose on the nose. The little terrier pranced around the Shepherd-mix, inspecting her carefully. Finding her suitable, she bent low in a play bow, which Bear returned.

"Get that _mutt_ away from my Rose!" Rookie recognized the shriek of Antoinette. Obviously, Caroline had went straight to Mary-Ann, skipping Antoinette. She scowled at her sister below her hat. She had called Rose _hers._ Slowly, she removed her hat and stood up.

"Excuse me, sister," she said, looking to her sister. Antoinette stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands perched on her hips, her eyes narrowed. Her hair looked a little messy, which led Rookie to believe that she had hurried when she heard the commotion. Antoinette's eyes slowly begin to widen. Ignoring this (though she wanted to smirk), Rookie continued. "But Rose is _my_ dog, and so is Bear. And since they are mine, they are perfectly able to play with each other."

"Brooklyn?!" she exclaimed, staring momentarily.

"Why Antoinette, you look like you've seen a ghost," Rookie replied coolly. Her sister turned around at once, looking towards the upstairs.

"MOTHER!" she hollered. "Mother! Come down here immediately. Cal! Cal! Where are you?" _Cal._ As if some sort of cue, Rookie shuddered in disgust.

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Why is he here?

she wondered, scooping up Bear and telling Rose to sit at her heels.

_After all, he did deem me lost. Would he wait for me? Ick. _

A commotion was heard on the second level as three people came rushing down the hall. Cal was in front, with Mary-Ann not a step behind. Behind them both was a very frazzled looking Caroline, playing with her hands and staring at her feet as she rushed behind the two.

"You," Cal growled when he caught sight of her. "Why you're-"

"Brooklyn!" Mary-Ann exclaimed, rushing down the stairs as fast as her long skirt would allow. Rookie couldn't tell if her mother looked upset, angry or happy, as all three emotions seemed to be swimming around her face. She met Antoinette at her side.

"Mary-Ann, that is not Brooklyn, that is Rookie," Cal said, catching the twins' mother on the shoulder.

"Rookie?" Mary-Ann said in disbelief. Rookie gulped, placing Wish at her heels opposite Rose. She played with her sleeves uncomfortably. "_Who _in the world is Rookie?" Before Cal could respond, Rookie spoke up.

"I'm Rookie, mother, or at least I was." Her mother stared at her, and Cal narrowed his eyes.

"But, Brooklyn, that sounds like some trash-newsie name."

"It is, mother."

Her mother's face to stone, and her eyes flashed. Rookie took a step back, afraid her mother was going to completely go ballistic on her. But instead of yelling at her, Mary-Ann turned around and faced Cal.

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"You told me my daughter was not at the Lodging House!

" she practically screeched. Antoinette covered her ears and winced, while both dogs yelped in surprise. Cal took a step up the stairs backwards, becoming frightened of Mary-Ann. "You told me there were no newsgirls at all." Cal seemed to lose all his abilities to speak momentarily, but when he did, he came back calm and suave.

"You see, Mary-Ann," he began, throwing an arrogant glance at Rookie. "Brooklyn here is twisting the story. Yes, I went to the Lodging House and saw her. But when I did, she was a sickly thing and could hardly say two words to me. I thought for sure that she could not be your lovely Brooklyn and left. I only told you there were no newsgirls to ease your mind. If I had only known I would have told you."

Mary Ann had settled at his words and nodded meekly, as if she was embarrassed. She then turned to Rookie, her face taught. "Now, young lady. You have a lot of explaining to do." She walked towards her and then stopped, taking a sniff of the air. "Ehck," she said in disgust. "But first, you are going to clean up and change first." Rookie nodded.

"Yes mother," it was all she could do to try and revert to her old 'yes mother, no mother' ways in an instant. A month was beginning to feel like a year to her as she tried to remember her teachings.

"What is that?" Mary-Ann, pointing to Bear. It was as if she finally realized that the pup was present. Rookie thought quickly.

"This is Wish, mother," she said. "She was -ehm- a bribery present given to me by one of the newsies to urge me to keep quiet and not return home."

"What?" Mary-Ann asked. "When did this-" she stopped herself. "Bathe now, tell us your stories later. And have Lily give that thing a bath as well."

"Yes mother."

"Caroline, go get Lily and tell her to meet Brooklyn in the bathroom." The maid nodded at the request of Mary-Ann and sped off down a hallway. Mary Ann turned to her daughter. "I do trust you remember where the bathroom is, Brooklyn?" Rookie nodded and scooped Bear up, starting toward the stairs. Mary Ann, Antoinette and Cal stepped out of her way, allowing her to pass with no fuss.

Rookie felt mechanical as she walked up the stairs. Her feet began to remember where they were, and guided her to the left and down the hall to the last door. She entered and placed Bear on the floor, allowing her to sniff around the bathroom. Rookie ran her fingers over the white porcelain tub's edges and over the silver nozzles. Memories of her life before the newsies flooded to her, leaving her in a trance.

"Miss Brooklyn?" a quiet voice asked. Rookie turned around and met her private maid's eyes as she did.

"Yes, Lily?" she replied. Without warning, the maid flung her arms around Rookie and pulled her into an embrace. Surprised, Rookie pat her on the back gently.

"Let's get you washed up." Lily removed herself from the embrace and closed the door. She set the water temperature and filled up the bathtub. "Now you get yourself washed, miss, and I'll go get your clothes ready." Rookie nodded and watched Lily leave and waited for the door to be fully clothed before undressing and stepping into the tub.

The hot water felt cleansing in itself, and Rookie felt as if she didn't need any soap. Despite the feeling, however, Rookie grabbed a loofa and poured some lavender soap on it. Gently she began to wash herself. As she watched her skin become clear and clean, she realized that she was washing away Rookie, and would soon return to Brooklyn. So, she washed herself slower. She looked over at Wish, who was laying on the tile, fast asleep. How splendidly white the pup would look with a proper bath herself.

After she was washed, she drained the water and then refilled the tub to wash her hair. She dunked her head under the water and then began to lather in some shampoo. After the shampoo, she put in conditioner. She was working on autopilot, muscle memory, her body remembered the routine.

"Wow," Rookie mumbled as she stood in front of full-length mirror in her room. Lily stood there and beamed at her work, despite the wriggling Bear in her arms. Rookie looked the best she had in a while (though she found her newsie clothes much more comfortable), with no exaggerations.

The turtle-neck blouse was pure white. It was tight around her chest and bodice, but the sleeves tight until they reached the cuffs, where they belled out. The Edwardian Corset made her arch her back, and pushed her chest up uncomfortably. It was all she could do not to squirm and become impatient with her maid. So she focused on something else, her skirt, for instance. The skirt was a deep maroon, and it fanned out to her ankles, where she wore three-inch-heeled black boots. It was simple and slightly uncomfortable, but much better (by better she meant warmer) than anything she had worn in the past month.

Before, her hair had only grown out to her shoulders and was all uneven and out-of-sorts. Lily had evened out the cutting, but by some miracle was able to keep the length. She pulled half of Rookie's hair back and braided it, securing the braid with a maroon ribbon. Her hair was glossy, both looking and feeling like silk.

For the finishing touches, Lily proposed to add a bit of makeup. Though Rookie protested at first, she remembered that she was to make a good impression and gain sympathy if she wished to gain her family back. She reluctantly gave in. Lily put blush on her cheeks to create an innocent look, and then added a little bit of red lipstick to give her a matured look. After that, she added mascara to her eyelashes.

When Rookie looked into the mirror, she realized that there was no more Rookie. Only Brooklyn. She was Brooklyn now, and Brooklyn she would stay.

"Do you really think all of this is quite necessary?" Brooklyn questioned. "After all, aren't I just going to go to bed after I talk to Mother, Antoinette and Cal?"

"Not necessarily, miss," Lily said, looking Brooklyn over once more.

"What do you mean 'not necessarily'?"

"Never you mind that now, miss," Lily replied, picking Bear up once again. She had put the pup down to put makeup on her employer, but now it was time for the little mutt's bath. "Come, before your mother grows impatient with you." Brooklyn took a deep gulp of air and nodded, re-running the story she had conjured whilst bathing.

"Mother?" Brooklyn said quietly as she stood in the doorway of the library. Mary-Ann, Antoinette and Cal had been sitting in front of the fireplace, talking in serious under-tone. What caught Brooklyn's attention was Antoinette and Cal. They were sitting next to each other, hands clasped in the little space between the two of them. But her attention was brought away when little Rose jumped from her spot by the fire and trotted over to Brooklyn's legs.

Mary-Ann looked over and beckoned her over with a gesture of her hand. Tentatively, Brooklyn complied with her mother's wishes and walked over. She noticed a second man in the room, and recognized him as one of her uncle's reporters. Her mother planned on publishing the story, if it seemed fit! Her blood boiled slightly, but she kept her appearance of collectiveness on the outside.

She looked to her mother and motioned with her eyes to the reporter. Her mother seemed to ignore her signal and, without saying a word, Mary-Ann gestured to the one open seat. It was removed, slightly away from where they were sitting. Only a couple of feet, but Brooklyn knew that those couple of feet meant a lot.

Once she was settled and comfortable, with Rose laying on her lap, all eyes were on her. "So, Brooklyn," her mother said tersely. Her anger toward her daughter for running away and joining the newsies had obviously taken over her motherly 'I'm-so-glad-you're-all-right-and-nothing-else-matters-' instinct. "You may tell your story now." Brooklyn nodded and took a deep sigh, pausing for a dramatic, tense effect. The reporter put his pencil to his notepad, ready to take notes. She glanced once at him before looking to her mother and sister.

"It all started when I met Spot Conlon last month," she began. "I met him on the night of Uncle Joseph's holiday ball. To clear my head, I had taken a walk in Central Park. I heard a gunshot and I started running. I tripped and fell and he helped me to my feet." She looked to Cal. "So that following day, Cal, he did know who I was, if not my name." Cal made a face of disgust.

"I started talking to him more, visiting him in the park," Brooklyn continued. "He seemed very nice, and didn't care about the Pulitzer name. Or, that's what I thought then. We enjoyed each other's company and even resolved in becoming friends." Her mother made a horrified gasp. "Yes, that was when I realized the error of my ways. I tried to stop talking to him, but it seemed wherever I was, he was. We just kept bumping into each other, you see. It was all rather strange…" She trailed off, as if going into thought, when really, she was just pulling her mother and sister, Cal and the reporter in further.

"When I went into see Uncle Joseph that one day, a week before Christmas," she continued, enjoying how well her story was working. "I saw Spot on the bridge, walking in the snow. He noticed the carriage, and waved as I passed. Feeling rather sorry for him, I asked Rupert to stop and let him in. All the way there he talked about a gathering of the Manhattan newsies at the restaurant, Tibby's. I have to admit, I was interested. So, he invited me there and I agreed to go after my visit with Uncle Joseph." She stopped and sighed. "I believe you all know what happened whilst in their company, so I will skip to six days later, Christmas Eve."

"Well, while I was condemned to my room, I was out on the balcony thinking about Father, when I noticed Spot walking by," she told them, which was completely true. "He saw be and said hello, inviting me out for a walk. I denied, telling him that I was not to see him anymore. But somehow, he managed to persuade me to sneak out and take a walk."

"How'd you get passed Dmitri?" Cal questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"He left his post," Brooklyn replied, slightly airily. "So I just locked the door to my room and snuck out. I don't even know why I did it, now that I think about it." She tried her best to look truly apologetic. She frowned slightly before going to continue.

"Well anyway, at some point in our conversations, I must have mentioned that I liked looking out at the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Well he said something about how I could never enjoy it from the carriage, so he took me over to the bridge and we watched from the middle, just looking out over the river. It _was_ quite a nice view…" She trailed off into her own memory of that day, of those few moments in the tight alley, what could have happened. When her mother cleared her throat, it brought her back to reality.

"I'm sorry, but I was just searching my thoughts," Brooklyn lied. "After I had that terrible bout of bronchitis, some of my memory is a little fuzzy." She paused, as if she really had to think about which event came next. She looked back to her mother, who looked absolutely appalled that her daughter had to strain for a memory. Brooklyn had suppress a smile of pride. Her lies were working.

"Oh yes," she continued suddenly with a snap of her fingers, causing a slight jump out of her listeners, and the reporter dropped his pencil. Brooklyn watched and waited for him to pick it up, only continuing when he had placed it against his pad once more.

"Then we saw our carriage coming, and Spot helped me get home before you could see us. But when I was about to go in, and asked me if I wanted to join the newsies. And regretfully -oh, I was so caught up in the moment- I accepted. He told me to meet him at the end of the block that night at eleven-thirty, terms I agreed to. I even gave him money to buy the clothes I would need to blend in." She shook her head as if she was regretful. "I asked him how I would explain this to you and he told me to write a note. So there would be no hard feelings, he told me, I should make it aggressive." She paused.

"I'm very sorry for the things I wrote in that letter, oh how wrong of me it was," Brooklyn stated, putting a hand on her chest. Antoinette, Mary-Ann and the reporter were lapping it up, though Cal seemed doubtful.

"So we snuck away in the middle of the night, and he brought me to Manhattan. He told me that it would be safer for me there, so that not many people would notice me. Jack Kelly, the strike leader, took me in with open arms, they were all so kind."

"That morning, just before dawn, they turned me into a newsie. I put on the clothes that Spot had bought for me and Jack cut my hair. They even gave me a new name, Rookie." After a moment of thinking, Brooklyn decided that she would become vague about things, and skip over what would seem less important to them.

"So they taught me the ropes, and I have to admit, it was fun," she said truthfully, now that she had gained their sympathy. "But I missed home, and I asked Spot if I could go back to Brooklyn with him so I could say hello, or even just see you." She was back into her lie. "But he said that it would be better if I stayed away for a while, until the homesickness died down. Once again, I agreed to these terms." She paused and sighed.

"But homesickness would not be the only sickness that would plague me," she continued dramatically. "I was struck with a bad case of bronchitis, and would not have made it if not for some kind woman who took me to the doctor and got me medicine. But the newsies helped a lot too. But as I got sicker, I wanted to come home. But they said no, and took care of me. The Manhattan newsies are great, they treated me just like their little sister." _Except for Mush, of course, who kissed me,_ she thought to herself.

"I talked to Spot, and considered letting myself be discovered," she went on. "I was sick, and missing home. But to heal the hurt, he brought me Bear one day while I lay in bed, hardly able to open my eyes. He said something about a richie -that would turn out to be you, Cal- coming in and told me to tell him that my name was Rookie and that I was thirteen years-old." She paused again, building the tension in the room.

"I suppose he only wanted to protect me from you, Cal," she looked to Cal as she said this. "Because he was fearful you would take me away, or fearful you would hurt me, oh I don't know. All I know is that is intentions were good. So you came in, and I was in such a terrible state of mind that I didn't even recognize you. I just said what Spot told me to say and you left." Another pause.

"And then there was our fight, when I realized that it had been you and I had a chance to get home," she said, sniffling to make herself sound more believable, more sorrowful and to gain more sympathy from her mother and sister. "It was a dreadful fight, I never wanted it -our friendship, I mean, of course- to end like that. But that's what happened. After our fight, I ran without telling the other newsies. And truthfully, I feel quite upset that I didn't tell the Manhattan newsboys, for they had been extremely kind to me. But, goodness-" she sniffled and wiped an invisible tear from the corner of her eye "-it feels just so good to be home again."

There was a silence in the room that was practically deafening. Brooklyn looked around the room. The reporter was busy scribing what he heard, Antoinette and Cal had their hands clasped tight and were now facing each other, talking so only each other could hear. And Mary-Ann just stared at her daughter. She stood up, so Brooklyn did the same. Before she knew what had happened, her mother embraced her tightly. It took every fiber of Brooklyn's being not to shudder and back away.

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It worked!

she though jovially, though suppressing a grimace from her mother's tight embrace. _I can't believe it, my story worked! My ridiculous, completely made-up story worked._

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Author's Note:

P.S. Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers who have stayed with me thus far and reviewed on Chapter 17 of Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

P.P.S. Thank you to my friend, Kri, for reading my chapter over.

So…what'd you think? Good? Bad? Tell me in your reviews, please! 


	2. The Winner Takes it All

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Two: The Winner Takes it All

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Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies and I don't think I ever will. Anything or anyone you recognize from the movie is not mine.

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Brooklyn awoke with a start at the sound of a knock on the door. Opening her eyes, she became worried. She began glancing around the large room. _Where am I? _Her thoughts raced frantically. What had happened to her bunk? Why was she on a large white bed with two dogs-_-?_ She sighed as she remembered and put a hand to her forehead. Had she really done it? She had. Spot had really called her a slut and she had really ran away from the newsies and right back into her life as Brooklyn.

Her subconscious had been hoping it was just all some crazy dream, that she would wake up and still be in Manhattan. But she wasn't. No, that life was all over now. She was Brooklyn Pulitzer, and Brooklyn Pulitzer she would remain until she was married away.

Another knock at the door reminded her why she had woke up. "Come in," she said groggily, massaging her temples. To her surprise, Antoinette practically floated into the room, a broad smile upon her face. Brooklyn removed her fingers from her temples and pulled the awakened Rose into her lap.

"Oh sister!" Antoinette exclaimed. "I just had to come in to check if you were really here. I was plagued with the thought that last night was all a dream. I have the most _splendid _newsfor you."

"Yes?" Brooklyn asked, busying herself with Rose so she wouldn't have to force an expression of genuine interest. The terrier licked her fingers gentle, wagging her stubby tail as she did so. Brooklyn grimaced and wiped the slobber on Rose's coat.

"Oh Brooklyn," Antoinette practically exclaimed, grabbing her sister's hands and practically forcing Brooklyn to look at her in surprise. "Oh sister, I'm _engaged._" Brooklyn, generally shocked, dropped her jaw to form a perfect 'o'.

"To who?" she asked, though she had an inkling of who her betrothed might be. But, how could it be? It had only been once month, could the man possibly believe she was gone for good? Or was this all Mary-Ann's doing…? Perhaps, it was love. The two did look very close that previous night…

"To Cal, he proposed to me just this morning!" Antoinette exclaimed, and Brooklyn's eyes widened. Immediately, her sister changed her expression and lowered her tone. She placed her hands consolingly on Brooklyn's shoulders. "Oh Brooklyn," she said quietly, almost apologetically. "I'm so sorry, but while you were away, we grew close. We have so much in common, it's simply uncanny!"

"I'm so happy for you, sister, truly I am," Brooklyn replied, letting her sister embrace her tightly. And it was true, she was happy. Because Antoinette was to marry Cal, Brooklyn didn't have to. She still had a very small chance to find love of her own.

_You've already found it, _a little part of her mind reminded her, a perfect image of Spot flooding her mind. _But you let him call you a slut and ran away from him. _In shock of her own thoughts, she flew back away from her sister's hold, nearly squishing her terrier. Rose yipped indignantly and hopped off of the bed. Hearing the yip, Bear woke up and crawled over to where Brooklyn lay back, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong, Brooklyn?" Antoinette asked.

"Spider," Brooklyn lied, pointing no where in particular. Antoinette shrieked, nearly flying off the bed. "I saw a spider crawling along the floor and it frightened me." Antoinette looked around nervously, as if the imaginary spider would like to take a bite out of her boots.

"Oh, Brooklyn, I have nearly forgotten," she said as she back toward the door, glancing around the floor. "Mother told me to send you to the library as soon as we were finished talking. Oh, and dress nicely, Uncle Joseph is here."

"Uncle Joseph?" Brooklyn squeaked, and called loudly for Lily when her sister left the room. Her lady's maid was there in a heartbeat, ready to help her dress.

Brooklyn chose a ruby dress with golden hems to wear. It was a scoop-neck, though in the back reached the top of her neck, where her hairline began. She slipped on black boots and black inside gloves. Made of one layer of cotton, they were light and only for fashion purposes.

Her maid brushed out her hair and let it half of it stay down. The other half she pulled back and put it into a fish-tail braid. Both Lily and Brooklyn had remembered that Uncle Joseph did not like seeing his nieces' hair pulled back. For one reason or another, he preferred to see their tresses let down and flowing. The twins' father, Harold, had preferred Brooklyn's hair down because of the rare, lighter-than-honey tone and believed Antoinette looked more classy with her hair in an up-do. The brothers were constantly fighting over the silly matter of hair, both sisters finding it rather ridiculous, and usually wearing their hair the way they themselves liked it.

Brooklyn sighed a shaky sigh. In truth, she was afraid of seeing her uncle. For the past month she had lived with the newsboys that had started the historical strike against the World. She didn't know how he would receive her return. Would he be happy and overjoyed at her return, or was he just there to announce that he was disowning her?

"Could you take Bear and Rose out for a walk for me, Lily?" Brooklyn asked as she made to leave the room. "I don't know if I will be able to or not immediately, and they need to go out first thing when they wake up." Truly, Brooklyn was trying to stall. Bear and Rose could wait a while longer, but it was the only good excuse to talk to Lily and prevent herself from having to face her uncle. Lily told her employer that she would take care of the two dogs, and then there was no more stalling. Brooklyn had to go face-to-face with her uncle. It was now or…well, now. There was no other option.

The walk to the library seemed to be the longest walk she had ever taken. When the large, black oak, double-doors appeared in front of her, she nearly sighed in relief. She took a few shaky breaths before placing one hand on one of the handles. And then the other. Closing her eyes, she pushed the doors open, opening her eyes simultaneously.

Almost immediately she was enveloped in a strong embrace. It took her a second, but memory-by-scent told Brooklyn that it was her Uncle Joseph that was hugging her. He always wore a strong, musky cologne that would tingle and even burn Brooklyn's nose. She crinkled it, but smiled. Her Uncle, like her father, was one of the only people in her family that she could, quite frankly, tolerate. And as he hugged her, all her fears about disownment washed away.

Joseph Pulitzer's reputation as a hard-headed, iron-fisted owner of the World was spot-on. When it came to work, nothing came between him and doing his job and earning money. Except for family. With his family, he was a completely different man. Family first, always. Of course no one knew, why would they? Nice, sweet headlines don't make the newspapers.

"My dear niece," Joseph said as he released her, capturing her hands as he backed up so he could hold her in place to look at her. She smiled and he smiled back, bringing her into an embrace again. "Oh how could you run away from us?" Brooklyn said nothing, just hugged her uncle. Though she hadn't really missed him while she was living with the newsies, it felt nice to be in his company once more.

When the embrace was over, Brooklyn was beaming, truly beaming. With her uncle, she did not have to force happiness and relief, it came naturally. Joseph led her over to a chair and she sat down with a smile. He sat at the chair opposite her, and Brooklyn found the chairs to be in a circle. In the circle was not only her Uncle Joseph and herself, but Mary-Ann and Cal also completed the circle.

"The matter we are to discuss is of the utmost importance," Mary-Ann explained, looking into her daughter's eyes. The cold, blank seriousness of them caused Brooklyn's smile to fade in an instant. "And this matter concerns you."

"Me?" Brooklyn questioned, almost biting her lip to retract the words. Do-not-speak-unless-spoken-to when concerning serious matters was a number one rule in her house, especially when it came to her mother and older family members. But now that she had spoken, despite her mother's pressing lips, she continued. "How could it concern me?" Before Mary-Ann could chide her daughter, Cal slipped in.

"As you have heard from Antoinette this morning," he said quietly, refusing to look at Mary-Ann, even though she had turned her head to him to try and catch his eyes. "Your sister and I are engaged. Therefore, there is nothing for you here." Brooklyn cocked an eyebrow, gripping the armrest of the chair to restrain herself. She glared hard at Cal, her eyes flashing.

_How could he think that he is the only thing that makes my stay in Brooklyn livable?_ Her thoughts raced. _That arrogant, stuck-up, weasel, son-of-a-…_Brooklyn's thoughts were cut short by her uncle clearing his throat.

"Brooklyn," her uncle said rather tersely, looking to Cal. Brooklyn turned her head to her uncle, softening her eyes. "Calvin has failed to explain the whole story. You see, with you running back to us from _those newsies_, you have made yourself a target."

"Excuse me, uncle," she interrupted as politely as possible. "I've made myself a target?"

"Let me finish dear," Joseph said, raising his hand. Brooklyn immediately silenced herself. Her uncle cleared his throat and glanced around the room before continuing. "As I have just said, you have made a target of yourself. Obviously there will be some newsies that are not too happy with your return, and with the article that has been printed-"

"May I see it, Uncle?" Brooklyn interrupted for the second time, and nearly bit her tongue. She had to remember her manners once again. Before anyone could say anything, she quickly mumbled an apology.

"No, you may not," Mary-Ann cut in icily, becoming tired of her daughter's interruptions. "Let your Uncle finish, for goodness sakes." Brooklyn bit back her lip to keep a sharp retort locked behind her teeth. She was trying to convince her family that she had truly wanted to return home, not start snapping and have them wish she never had.

"_Those newsies_ sure have gotten to you," Joseph stated, though it seemed more of a loud thought than a statement directed to Brooklyn. He shook his head slightly before looking back to his niece. "Anyhow. As I will say for the third -_and last, so no interruptions-_ time, you have made a target of yourself. And we believe that you are not safe here in the city." Brooklyn took a sharp intake of breath. Not for effect, but because she was truly surprised. She was going to be able to leave? She waited for her uncle to continue, playing with her fingers anxiously in her lap.

"We have decided that it would be in your best interest if you did not remain in the City for a while," he told her. "We have decided to send you away for a few months."

"Send me away?" she repeating, doing her best to sound suddenly distraught at the news. Really, she was doing cartwheels in and flips in her mind, never expecting this to work out so well. "But where could you send me away to? Who would take me?" Her Uncle, nor her mother seemed angry with her outburst. Rather, they seemed prepared, as if they expected it.

"I have phoned your Uncle Theodore," Mary Ann told her. "He will come up here by train, come get you and then you will take the next train down to South Carolina." Brooklyn nodded slowly, before raising her eyes to her mother.

"How long do I have?" she asked slowly, trying to force the most morose tone she could.

"He will be here in two days," Mary Ann said finally, and a hush came over the library.

****

&&

The slowest two days of Brooklyn Pulitzer's life took place on eighteenth and nineteenth of January, 1900. She simply could not wait for her Uncle Theodore to arrive and take her away. Take her away to a small town in North Carolina and bring her away from the shame that awaited her on the streets. 

For the two days that she awaited her uncle's arrival, she had remained inside the house. The one time she did go out on the street was to go down the block to the corner bakery to get a muffin for breakfast. Her mother had let her go because, well, she wasn't home. She passed three girl newsies on her way home, they pretended to cough, while conspicuously calling her a slut. Tears came to her eyes and she had to fight not to run home.

"What happened, miss?" Lily asked as Brooklyn walked through the door, wiping her eyes. Brooklyn made a stupid excuse about slamming her hand in the door and went to the kitchen to eat her muffin. Although she was very angry at Spot, and he had obviously told the story of their last encounter to his newsies, and it was probably spread all around Brooklyn. _The _Spot Conlon thought Brooklyn Pulitzer a slut.

The sneers haunted her those two days, and she couldn't wait until her uncle Theodore had taken her away. What had she been thinking when she ran away from Spot? Was she perhaps wishing that the incident would all blow over, that she would be able to resume what she had once considered a 'normal life'? Was she truly that naïve or was she just stupid? Had she been viewing her world through rose-colored spectacles at that moment?

_My head hurts,_ she thought as she lay down in her bed. _Why did I seem to think that this was going to be easy?_ Sure, she was glad that she was going to be able to get away from the city, and she wouldn't have to pretend to like anyone except the people that attended her Uncle's dinner parties.

Why was she going through all of these strange emotions so quickly? Relieved, guilty, regretful, joyful, angry, frustrated, morose and then regretful and relieved all over again…what was wrong with her.

_You know you made the wrong decision, that's the problem,_ she told herself as she closed her eyes. _The right decision would have been just to walk away from Spot and stay in the safety of Manhattan._ She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she had done exactly what Spot had wanted her to do. She shook her head and groaned, removing her hand from behind Bear's ears to rub her temples.

Tomorrow, Uncle Theodore would arrive at nine o'clock, and they would take the eleven o'clock train to Charleston, South Carolina. From there, they would take a buggy to East Georgetown, where her Uncle's plantation lay only two miles from the Atlantic ocean. Tomorrow, she would be taken away from the city she grew up in. She would be taken away from New York City, considered perhaps the greatest city in the world. She would be taken away from her Manhattan newsies, perhaps the closest thing she ever had to a family. And all because she ran.

****

&&

"You're going to love living on the plantation, Brooklyn," Brooklyn's Uncle Theodore told her in his slight southern drawl as they took their seats in the first-class-car of the train. Brooklyn was silent, only nodding as she lifted Rose and Bear onto the seat opposite her uncle. She sat down between them and stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by.

"You don't want to talk, that's understandable," Theodore stated, nodding his head. "But if you need to, I'm right here, and I'll be right here for the rest of our little journey." Brooklyn smiled and nodded, but did not look to him. She had not the will power to. She felt that looking at him, speaking to her uncle would finalize everything. She felt that at the moment, she could not face the realization that this was all happening, that this had all been happening for the past three days, that this wasn't a crazy dream.

****

&&

"Wake up, dear," Brooklyn heard Theodore tell her. She felt her shoulder being gently shaken and she opened her eyes blearily, wiping one with a gentle fist. "We're in Charleston, we need to catch our buggy." Brooklyn nodded and stood up, yawning greatly. She picked up her two dogs and looked out the window. It was barely breaking dawn, a thin strip of sunlight just visible on the horizon.

Groggily she followed her uncle out of the train and onto the platform. From the platform they walked with assistants to carry Brooklyn's pile of luggage to the front of the station where a buggy with two handsome black mares attached was waiting for them. Theodore helped her into the buggy and then supervised the loading of luggage. Before they left, they let the dogs do their business.

Finally, they were on the move. It was a long, five hour trip to Georgetown, and Brooklyn found her eyes drooping. She let them fall and fell fast asleep. Rose lay her chin on Brooklyn's thigh, and Bear was curled up in a ball next to her owner.

When she woke up, it must have been ten o'clock. According to her uncle, they were only about forty five minutes away from the plantation. Feeling quite awake, Brooklyn stared out the window. It was all country side, completely farmland. Cows and horses grazed in the pasture together, and if they got close enough to the crops, she could see workers in the fields and buzzing around the farmhouse.

So this was to be her life for the next God-knew how many months? She was to live on a plantation, sitting on the front porch and drinking ice tea? How terribly boring.

They passed through Georgetown, which was very much alive at eleven o'clock, with people and other buggies bustling about and crowding the streets. "Only a few minutes away, now," Uncle Theodore told her with a nod. She smiled, rather pleased that she would be able to get out of the buggy and stretch her legs. They had to stop numerous times to let Wish do her business, but Brooklyn was either asleep or not permitted to leave the buggy.

Finally they reached the borders of Theodore's land, marked with a pearl-white gate. To the far north there was a forest, but that wasn't part of his land. All of his land had been plowed and had seeds thrust into the earth. Brooklyn watched the workers in the fields, tending to the winter crops. She had forgotten that for the most part, it remained very warm in South Carolina all winter, and they were able to farm throughout the winter months.

The plantation house came into view, and it was enough to take Brooklyn's breath away, even though she had seen in hundreds of times. It was very large, and very beautiful. It stood three stories high, and had forty different rooms. It was a pure white color, with green roof shingles. Out of the ordinary, yes, but still very beautiful. It's porch wrapped around the entire house, and she noted five rocking chairs just in the front, with little tables beside them.

When she stepped out of the buggy, she could see -and smell- the barn. It was the same style as the house, white with green roofing. Some of the plantation hands could be seen just outside the barn, tacking up their horses to go herd up some stray cattle or check the fences on the border of their land.

Her uncle led her up through the house and to her new room. It was very large, larger than the one back in New York. It was fully furnished with not only a bed, bureau and wardrobe, but with a couch and a small glass table with a wicker chair. It had a small balcony which she would be able to walk out on and look right over the pastures.

"Thank you so much, Uncle Theodore," Brooklyn said nearly breathlessly, taken aback by the generosity her uncle expressed. She put her two dogs down to explore, and they went all around the room with their noses to floor, filling their noses with the new scents. She turned to her uncle and hugged him, tears threatening to release themselves from the corners of her eyes.

And the strange thing about her tears is that she didn't know why they had come. Out of surprise, sadness or gratitude, she could not place her emotions. But to her uncle she played them off as gratitude.

"Do you see that handsome gelding out there?" Theodore asked as they looked out on the pasture. Brooklyn nodded. "He's a Hurst Arabian. His name is Eclipse, isn't that pretty?" Brooklyn nodded once more. "Well I figured, that for the time that you stay here, he could be yours." Brooklyn turned to her uncle, her eyes wide.

"You aren't teasing, are you, Uncle?" she asked, a smile growing on her lips. She knew her Uncle loved to spoil her, but she never expected him to lend her a horse to call her own for her stay. Her Uncle shook his head and she hugged him once more.

"He's quite the easy ride, and I know you haven't ridden in a while, so I figured him most fit for you."

"Thank you very much, Uncle, thank you very, very much," Brooklyn hugged him once more before turning her eyes back to the gelding.

"But, even in your excitement, why don't you stay in your room today?" Theodore suggested. "You need rest from the long journey and you should get yourself acclimated to your new home. I'll have lunch and dinner sent up to you, and I will have a servant on your every call. What do you say?"

"I could do with a good rest," Brooklyn agreed with a nod, walking off the balcony and back into the room. "I was never fully rested with the constant bumping and rocking of the train. Yes, your idea seems to be a good one, I do believe I will stay up here for the remainder of the day."

"Very good, and when you're dogs need to go out, just call for the servant," Theodore told her as he made for the door. "Now, what will you want for lunch?"

"Oh, Uncle, I am too tired to be picky. You know my taste, please decide for yourself." Theodore nodded to his niece's request and began to open the door.

"Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you ever so much for your generosity, you have made my travel a whole world easier."

"You are very welcome, my dear niece, now please, get some rest. Lunch will be up in about an hour."

"Yes, Uncle, and thanks again."

Her Uncle nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving Brooklyn to herself. She walked over to the bed and sat down. It was very comfortable, and she felt as if she was sitting on a cloud. It was probably a very expensive goose-down mattress with special springs inside. A nice nap was beginning to look very appealing to her.

****

&&

Brooklyn must have slept six hours already that day, but after a very filling dinner of roasted pork, green beans and corn off-the-cob, she was ready for bed once more. Long journeys practically sucked the life from her, and she needed many hours of rest to regain herself.

Rose hopped up onto her bed on command and Brooklyn scooped Bear up and placed her next to the terrier. She had already changed into her nightgown and pulled her hair back into a braid. Blowing the candle out next to her bed, her room was only lit by the light of the full moon that glowed through her window and her balcony. She slipped underneath the covers and snuggled into the pillows.

It took her a few minutes, but soon she slipped into sleep, slipped into the land of Nod, and slipped into a dream.

__

**-Dream Sequence-**

**"Rookie! Yo Rookie! Whatcha doin' sleepin' in like dat? We's got papes ta sell!" Brooklyn's eyes shot open and she stared into the chocolate brown eyes of Jack Kelly. She startled, and looked around her. She was still in her uncle's plantation. But why was Cowboy there?**

**"What are you doing here, Jack?" she asked him groggily, pushing herself up into a sitting position.**

**"What am I doin' heah? What are ya doin' still in bed?" Jack exclaimed. "C'mon, we's got papes ta sell!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of bed. She was going to protest, to tell him that she had to change, but found that she was in her newsie-ing garb. **

**He pulled her down the hallways and out onto the plantation, where the rest of the Manhattan newsies were waiting on the porch. All of them held stacks of newspapers in their arms, and Specs thrust one into her arms. "C'mon, Rook! We's gotta sell fast if we's gonna make da weddin'." He told her, fixing his bowler.**

**"Wedding?" Brooklyn asked. "Wait…what wedding?"  
"Spot's wedding…yes, ya have ta go," Jack filled in. **

**"Spot's wedding?!" Brooklyn exclaimed, and Jack rolled his eyes. **

**"Yes, Spot's weddin'," he replied, frustrated. "Now let's go an' sell some papes already. Very good headlines." He walked out, dragging her behind him. He walked out into the fields, hawking out the headlines to the purple-and-green-spotted cows, who were munching lazily on the grass. While he pulled her, Brooklyn took the time to look down at the headline. She let out a cry when she saw what was strewn across the paper:**

**ROOKIE OF THE MANHATTAN NEWSIES DECLARED A SLUT  
SPOT CONLON MARRIES BROOKLYN PULITZER**

**"How can he be marrying me if I'm Rookie?" she said allowed to herself.**

**"Shhh, Rookie!" Jack chided her. "It's startin'." Brooklyn looked up and suddenly they were in a fancy cathedral. Notre Dame, if she was correct. She had once seen a painting of the famous church, and this was exactly how it had looked.**

**She looked down the aisle as the piano strung up "Here Comes the Bride", and a woman dressed in a lovely gown of white began walking slowly down the aisle. A veil was over her face, but Brooklyn could make out the face. It was her! But it was her as Brooklyn, not Rookie.**

**And suddenly, she was Brooklyn, walking down the aisle. She held a small bouquet of flowers in her hand, and she was glancing from side to side to see the seats. She saw herself as Rookie, gawking next to Jack. She saw Spot standing in a tuxedo at the end of the aisle in the front of the church. His hair was slicked back and he was smirking wildly.**

**And when she reached the front of the church, she turned to him, not being able to control her body. It was like she was already programmed into her movements, as if she had no say in which way she moved. Spot clasped her hands tightly, holding her in place. **

**"Dearly beloved," the priest began. "We are gathered here today in the House of God to celebrate the joining of Spot Conlon in his slut in holy matrimony." **

**"Slut?!" Brooklyn exclaimed.**

**"Yeah, Brookie," Spot said, and suddenly he was sneering. "You'll always be a slut." And at those words, everyone in the cathedral began to chant; "Slut, slut, slut,", even the Rookie-version of herself! She tried to break away from Spot's grip, but he held her in place tightly, not allowing her to move. She struggled against it, but he was too strong. **

**At last she began to scream for help, but no one would help her. Everyone was just laughing and chanting, taunting and mimicking her. A malicious glint shone in Spot's eye, and it scared Brooklyn. And yet, she could not look away, she was in some sort of trance. **

**"I'm dat good lookin', 'eh?" Spot asked silkily.**

**-End Dream Sequence-**

**X  
X**

**Author's Note:**

**Anyway. Sorry this chapter took so long, but I have actually been in Disney for the past week and I only just got back to this chapter, and when I did, my fingers flew.**

**There might be a bit of a delay because school starts in a week(from the 26th)! I need to get school supplies and shop and all that depressing stuff that tells me my summer is over and it's time to start sophomore year! **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review if you do and critique if you didn't. Oh yeah, and don't worry, Brooklyn will be back in New York in no time!**

**xEquestriad**

**P.S. Thanks to** Seren McGowan**, **LosahFace**,** Taylor Collins**, **0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**, **NeverbeTamed**, **ilovenewsies**,** Kits-in-the-HAT**, Dolface** Conlon** and** Anna** for giving me such great reviews on chapter one!**

**P.P.S. This chapter was named for ABBA's "The Winner Takes it All". Almost all my chapters will be named for songs, and all of the songs I highly recommend. **

** Whoo-hoo! I left on a dream sequence! Doesn't that last line seem familiar? It should! Brownies for anyone who figures out why it's familiar!**


	3. I Drive Myself Crazy

Only Time Will Tell

****

Chapter Three: I Drive Myself Crazy

__

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape or form own newsies. Any characters you don't recognize from the movie and the plot is mine. No, you wouldn't want me to have rights to Newsies…you just wouldn't.

****

X

X

Brooklyn nearly flung herself out of bed when she woke up. She was shivering in a cold sweat, and she needed to get out of her bed. She tossed back the covers and jumped off of the mattress, landing a clean three feet away. She stared at they pillow as if it were the demon that caused her nightmare. She was shaking, not shivering, but shaking with something close to fear in her bones.

She forced herself to turn around and walked over to her balcony. It was a little bit after dawn. The sun was still low in the eastern sky, just now showing it's full orb. It must have been near seven o' clock, and already she was watching the ranch hands go out to fetch the horses from the field. The two that were left alone was the gelding that her uncle was lending her and a pretty palomino mare. Judging by the characteristic dished-face of the mare, she was also an Arabian.

Brooklyn began to pull on a robe to go and look her uncle. She wondered if he had any maids that could help her dress. If it weren't for damned corsets she wouldn't have a problem, but that one, annoying accessory couldn't be done by one person. She was just about to thrust back the door when it was thrust back for her. A short, red-haired woman with red freckles that made her look like she was angry stood before her.

"Oh good, lass!" she exclaimed in a heavy Irish accent, a smile appearing on her lips. "Yer up already, thank the good Lord in Heaven. Savin' me a lot o' work." Brooklyn just stood there in a daze, raising an eyebrow in confusion. It was something she often did, and Antoinette would pick out frequently. "Did yer Uncle not tell ya, miss?" the woman asked, seeing Brooklyn's expression. "I be yer own personal maid." Brooklyn let out a sigh of relief and smiled.

"You have impeccable timing," Brooklyn said with a smile, backing up and letting the woman enter the room. "I was just going to find my uncle to ask him if someone could help me out with my corset."

"Hah," the woman laughed. "'Less you wanna go out ridin' in yer night dress, ya wouldn't be able to find Master Theodore. He's pro'lly out on the grounds somewhere, surveyin' the workers an' fields an' such."

"This early?" Brooklyn questioned, going to her wardrobe to pick out today's outfit.

"The green one will bring out yer eyes, if yer lookin' fer my opinion, which I doubt ya are." Brooklyn nearly startled at the sound of the maid's voice. She nodded her head, though, agreeing with the maid's suggestion.

"Yes," she said. "I do like that one an I'll take the matching hat as well, I suppose." The maid nodded and took the dress and the hat Brooklyn had acknowledged. To add to her armful, the maid grabbed a corset and under dressings and waved Brooklyn toward the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.

"The name's Annie, if yer wonderin'," she said as she pulled the strings tight on the corset. Brooklyn nodded, though didn't comment. Her breath was released in short gasps; Annie sure did tie corsets tighter than Lillie had.

"Brooklyn," was all Brooklyn was able to gasp in return. This caused Annie to chuckle.

"I know tha', miss," she replied, finishing tying the corset. Brooklyn smiled and half-heartedly thanked the maid. It wasn't that she was ungrateful to the help, it was that she was unhappy having to wear a corset.

The dress was fairly plain compared to the other outfits Brooklyn owned. It was a jade green, just a shade lighter than her eye color. It was a scoop neck, a white pearls lined the hems. The pearls then left the scoop neck area and traveled down the bodice to about Brooklyn's belly button. The two lines together formed a triangle, and within that triangle was white silk fabric.

Brooklyn slipped on white boots and tied them up tight. Annie was able to take her hair and twist it into a small bun, letting two small locks of hair hang down to border her cheekbones. Using a curling iron, she was able to give the two locks a slight curl. She also put two pearl earrings in the holes that had not been used for a month. It hurt a bit, Brooke winced as the maid poked the gold backs through the closing holes.

"Why is all this necessary, Annie?" Brooklyn questioned, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief to rid her eyes of any tears that had formed in her eyes when the earrings were put in. "Who am I attempting to impress?" Once again, Annie chuckled. "I'm glad you find all my confusion funny," Brooklyn snapped, only half kidding around. Annie took the warning and stopped, though a grin was still on her face.

"In a southern town such as this, miss," she began explaining. "If ya got money, it's best fer ya ta show it. Tha's all they care 'bout here. 'ow much land ya got under yer feet an' 'ow much money ya got in yer pockets." Brooklyn nodded and sighed. It was pretty much a scenic version of New York City.

"Will I be dining alone?" she asked, changing the subject and walking over to the bed. Both of her dogs were sound asleep, but it was time to wake up. She shook them gently, and both of them reluctantly stood up. She scooped up Bear and asked Rose to get off the bed. The ginger terrier obediently hopped off the bed, wagging her stub of a tail. Brooklyn placed Bear on the floor and then went to the wardrobe to fetch their leashes.

"Oh no, miss," Annie replied. "Yer uncle should be back any time now. By the time ya get ta the dinin' room, he'll prob'ly be waitin' fer ya." Brooklyn nodded and called her dogs over to get their leashes on. Mary Ann had bought a leather leash and collar for Bear, replacing the makeshift rope leash that they had first used.

Brooklyn placed her hat on her head on a slant so it dipped slightly in front of one eye. She then allowed Annie to take the lead and led her and the dogs down the hallway to get to the dining room. The plantation seemed bigger than last time, and it felt that the walk to the dining room took half the morning. _Maybe I'm just tired,_ she thought to herself. _That nightmare really shook me._

Annie was right. By the time they had reached the dining room, Theodore was sitting at the very end of the long table. He was sipping milk while looking over a few papers. When he heard them enter, however, he looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, my dear niece," he greeted. "You look lovely. How did you sleep? Don't just stand there, come sit by me. I'll have the cook bring in breakfast now." Brooklyn smiled at her uncle as she walked over.

"Thank you uncle, Annie here-" she looked to motion to Annie, but the maid was already gone. "Well, Annie who _was_ here suggested it, and I do say that it was a good choice." Theodore nodded his head in agreement. "And I slept fine, thank you." _Not hardly,_ she thought to herself. So she lied, but she didn't want to tell her uncle that she had a fitful sleep because of a newsie that she had somewhat of a relationship with while she ran away and hid from her family.

"Very good, very good," her uncle said. He took a final glance over his paper before flipping them over and placing them aside. When he saw Brooklyn looking at them, he told her to never mind them. "Just some quotes from last month's purchasing," he explained. "I'll go tell the cook-"

Before he could finish, the doors opened and out walked a man dressed in white, a chef's hat perched on his head. He carried to steaming plates with him, and warm aromas began to dance and tickle Brooklyn's nose. He placed one plate in front of each of them and then took Brooklyn's order for a glass of milk.

The sight of her plate caused Brooklyn to have restrain herself from licking her lips. Two strips of bacon with two eggs on the side of two pancakes that had maple syrup poured over the top. Her eyes widened slightly, and her stomach grumbled, telling her to pick up her fork. She dug in as politely as she could, savoring each bite.

It was amazing what a month away from three square meals a day could do to a person. Brooklyn always made sure she cleaned her plate, as she had taken food for granted before there were days where she didn't eat.

She looked down to see Bear and Rose sitting on either side of her, wagging their tails hopefully. Brooklyn smiled, and while she believed her uncle to be glancing over his papers once more, she quickly grabbed a strip of bacon and put it under her chair for the dogs to share between themselves.

"I saw that," Theodore told her with a slight frown. "You can not train your dogs to be beggars. They must wait until after we, their masters, stop eating to get their breakfast. I don't want to see you attempting to sneak food again." Brooklyn nodded and wiped her hands gently with the napkin to get the grease off her fingers. A good portion of the rest of their meal would go in silence.

"Why don't you go into town today?" Theodore asked suddenly. Brooklyn finished her sip of milk, dabbed her lips gently and cleared her throat.

"What's new in town to see, Uncle?" she asked him. She wanted to stay on the plantation, in her room to relax and not be bothered to talk to anyone or be questioned about her stay.

"There's people, dear," her Uncle replied. "And since we've yet to know how long you are going to be staying here, I believe it to be a wise idea to go and get to know the people of the town. You should try to socialize and make friends."

"Oh Uncle," Brooklyn began as she put down her fork. "Must I trifle myself with strangers on my first day here? I'd much rather go out for a ride around the property than go into Georgetown." Theodore shook his head, offering a chuckle.

"It's better that you go in now, rather than later," he told his niece. "If you remain in the house too long, oh the gossip that will spread." Brooklyn raised her eyebrows at her uncle, to which he shook his head. "Your mother would kill me." Brooklyn relaxed and smiled at that, nodding.

"Oh, all right then, Uncle," she said, giving up easily. She didn't feel like arguing on only her first day of staying with Theodore. She would make a quick appearance, find the bookstore, and leave. At the most, she would spend two hours in town. She could handle two hours.

"That's my girl," Theodore said with an approving smile. "I'll go call for the carriage to be brought out to the front." Brooklyn nodded, and let out an exasperated sigh once her uncle was out of hearing range. Did she want to go into town to mingle with those she hadn't seen in at least six months? No, she did not. She wanted to go out for a ride to explore the property, to be left alone to her thoughts.

And yet, she stood up without hesitation when Theodore came to fetch her. She wanted to bring her dogs, but Theodore objected. "Give yourself a break, and let them have a proper breakfast," he told her as they walked out to the carriage. He gave her fifteen dollars to spend as she chose to. After thanking him, she stepped into the carriage and bade goodbye to her uncle.

The ride into town was not terrible, as the land was beautiful. Brooklyn found herself distracted as she watched the country side pass by the open-air carriage. When they reached town, her daydreaming was interrupted by the driver, Adam. "Where to, Miss?" he asked her abruptly. She took a moment to absorb the question before answering.

"The bookstore, please," she told him. He nodded and reined his horses back into a slow trot. As they moved through the streets, they attracted attention. Brooklyn looked straight ahead, looking as regal as she could. Now that she was back to being Brooklyn Pulitzer, she wanted to keep it that way. She would try to remember -nay, she would force herself to remember- that gossip was a very powerful thing in her class. If she glanced at the wrong person the wrong way, well it could be all downhill from there.

She took a shaky breath. _This is my life now,_ she thought to herself. _At what moment did I become so obtuse?_ It was a stupid question to ask herself, for she knew the answer very well herself. But she didn't allow the memory to return, she quickly focused on the road straight ahead.

A little bit down the street to her right were three newsies. Instead of hawking out headlines, they were conversing animatedly, one waving a single sheet of paper in his hand. Brooklyn couldn't help herself, she became interested, wondering what they were talking about. She attempted to lip read, and swore she saw the words 'New York' mouthed by the tallest boy. Did newsies really communicate through the states?

She was absorbed in her pondering, and hadn't realized that the carriage had stopped until Adam began to talk. "We're here, miss," he told her. She smiled and thanked him as he helped her out of the carriage.

"Do you mind if I move the carriage down the street to the bakery, Miss?" he asked her once he had walked her to the door of the bookstore. "Master Pulitzer just requested that I pick up some bread for dinner this evening and-" Brooklyn put a hand up to stop him.

"I understand," she told him. "I'll meet you after I've made my purchase." Adam nodded and went back to the carriage. Brooklyn entered the bookshop and began to look around eagerly. She loved the smell of books, and was quickly scanning nearly all the rows of books at once. All the while she looked, she thought about the newsies on the corner a block ahead. Why would _New York_ come out of the mouth of a newsie from South Carolina? She would have to investigate once she was done getting a new book. The group, if they had stayed in the same place, would be on her route to the bakery.

The title Pride and Prejudice caught her attention, as well as Jane Austen's other book, Emma. Nearby, she saw a copy of The Wizard of Oz. Pausing momentarily, she remembered that she had forgotten her own copy, and decided to get herself a new one. She quickly snatched the three books off their shelves and brought it to the counter. Paying for them as fast as she could, she left the shop and looked up the street. The three newsboys were still there. She walked purposefully, and as she got close, tried to focus in on their words.

"Ya…got…all…wrong," were the first few words that she heard. They came from the tallest newsie. Brooklyn hooked into the voice like a predator sinking its teeth into freshly hunted prey. She didn't know why she was so interested in their conversation, why she _had_ to know if and why New York was so important in their discussion.

"I ain't heard wrong," the second newsie, the shortest, said. Brooklyn was closer to the three now, and could hear their voices with more clarity. "He went nuts." The third newsie, who seemed the youngest though was sort of in-between the two extreme height ranges, nodded his head fervently, agreeing with his shorter companion.

"Yeah," he finally stopped nodding and spoke. "I heard that he nearly threw one a' the 'Hatteners offa the Brooklyn Bridge." Brooklyn had to force her feet to keep walking and clamped her lips together to prevent her jaw from dropping. She had a very uneasy feeling that she knew who almost threw who off the Brooklyn Bridge. She picked up her pace, a mental battle beginning in her brain. Part of her brain told her to ignore the conversation, that it wasn't her business anymore. The other part of her brain wanted, needed, to know what was going on back in New York City.

She noticed that the tallest newsie was puzzling over something. After a few moments, he shook his head. "So it's true den," he sounded exasperated, as if he didn't want to believe the news. Brooklyn immediately picked up on the fact that this newsie did not have a southern drawl, but in fact a New York accent. "God-be-damned, I tink Conlon's finally lost his mind." _Conlon._ Brooklyn was almost positive that she knew who they were talking about. After all, she didn't know any other Conlon that would attempt to throw someone off the Brooklyn Bridge. In fact, she didn't know any other Conlon at all…

"Excuse me," she said quietly, standing two feet away from the three when she stopped. The three whipped off their hats and nodded their briefly in a cordial greeting. So, the truth about southern gentlemen was true.

"What can we help ya wit, miss?" the tallest asked her in a smooth southern drawl.

"Pardon me, but as I was walking by, I caught a bit of your conversation," she began, and then picked up right away so they couldn't interrupt her. "I heard you say that someone by the name of 'Conlon' nearly threw a newsie off the Brooklyn Bridge. Would this 'Conlon' be the Spot Conlon?" The three newsie raised their eyebrows in unison, something that slightly impressed Brooklyn. Very coordinated were the newsies of Georgetown, apparently.

"Yeah, we was tawlkin bout Spot Conlon," the shortest one said, eyeing her skeptically. "But, uh, why would one such as you want to know if it was?" Despite her urge to snap and become rude, Brooklyn forced her prettiest, most dazzling smile she could muster.

"Well, I just came from New York, you see," she explained in her sweetest tone. "My Uncle owns 'The World', and I had made acquaintances with the Newsies of Manhattan and Brooklyn, and I am very surprised that Spot Conlon would consider throwing someone off a bridge." The newsies stared at her now, and a good five seconds passed before the tallest one spoke again.

"You was "acquaintances" wit da Newsies of New Yawk?" he asked her. Brooklyn realized immediately that they had come to the wrong conclusion, and she was quick to defend herself.

"Not in the sense you were thinking!" she almost exclaimed, truly offended. "No, I know Spot Conlon and Jack Kelly -Francis Sullivan, rather- from a gala that my Uncle had sponsored to get back on their good side." The shorter one laughed, and said something under his breath that sounded to Brooklyn as 'No wonder Spot wasn't himself…too much to drink.' Brooklyn ignored the comment, pretending she hadn't heard it.

The tallest newsie hit the shorter over the head with the back of his hand and told him to 'Shut your mouth, Gus'. So the shorter one's name was Gus, and that perplexed Brooklyn. Perhaps they didn't have alias names down south.

"Yeah, we was tawkin' bout yoah friend, Spot," the tallest one said. "Do ya want us to explain the details?" Brooklyn nodded, and the tallest sighed, shaking his head.

"'Parently somethin' happened between a Brooklyn and a Manhattan newsie," he began to explain. "Sos Spot got in da middle a' it, and accordin' ta dese guys, it was a real good fight. Da otha guy didn't know how ta fight as good as Spot did, and Conlon took a lot outta him. Dey had to have three other newsies hold Spot back to prevent the newsie he was fightin' from goin' over the edge." Brooklyn nodded slowly. "Now dere's bad blood between the boroughs. The Bronx has taken Brooklyn's side and Queens has taken Manhattan's. New Yawk is lookin' at a newsie war." A gasp escaped Brooklyn's lips, and the newsie nodded, rubbing a hand behind his neck.

"Do you know who the other newsie was?" Brooklyn asked. The tall newsie shook his head. "How do you know what's going on in New York all the way down here?"

"Newsies have our connections," said Gus seriously. He shifted his eyes around, looking at passer-bys. His eyes locked on something and smirked. "Ya betta get goin', Miss. Your chauffer looks like he's thinkin' bout comin' ova heah."

__

Adam,

Brooklyn thought to herself angrily, though she forced a smile on her lips. "Thanks for answering my questions." She looked more deliberately at the tallest newsie. He had papers in his hand, so she asked to buy one. They exchanged the penny for the paper, she thanked him again and went to Adam. She didn't want to offer an explanation, she just told him to bring her back to the plantation as fast as he could without overworking the horses.

As she sat in the carriage, she thought back to New York. She knew that it had only been a few days, and she couldn't expect to forget all about the newsies in less than a week, but why did she have to keep thinking of Spot? After what he had said to her, she was sure they didn't feel the same way. She was almost positive that she loved him, or something similar to it. Oh, she was driving herself crazy.

When they arrived back at the plantation, Brooklyn nearly burst through the front doors. She called for Annie. She needed to clear her head, and figured there was no better way than to go on a nice, relaxing trail ride. Annie came to her, mumbling under her breath about being called like a whipped dog.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Brooklyn told her kindly in a murmur. Annie looked to her with wide eyes before staring straight ahead and mumbling an apology. Brooklyn ignored it, after all, she was pretending she had never heard it, so she didn't acknowledge the apology.

Her thoughts were far away, on the streets of New York. Even though she kept telling herself that what was going on there was_ not_ her problem, she knew that she was lying to herself. Even though she had only lived with the newsies for a short time, she considered them her family. And now her family was in trouble, a newsie _war_ looming over them. And there was only one thought that stood out from the turmoil, one thought that rang loudly in her head.

Was this all her fault?

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Author's Note:

A big thanks to

Anna, neverbetamed, ilovenewsies, Seren McGowan, EmeraldGreyClouds, elleestJenn, 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0, washedaway-56, Death-Mistress **and** midnight1899

**for the great reviews on Chapter two. Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me, I love hearing your reviews.**

Well, here is chapter three, _finally._ I am SO sorry that it took so long. School has a way of taking all my muse and willingness to write and smooshes it flat. But, I've set myself up a planner for the next few chapters, and I'm giving myself a firm deadline of Saturday, October 18th to get Chapter Four up. It may be up before that, though. 


	4. Tomorrow

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Four: Tomorrow

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Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, and sadly, I most likely never will.

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As soon as Brooklyn was in her riding habit, she was out the door of her room and down the balcony stairs. Thoughts kept racing through her mind, some faster than she could comprehend. She knew this was not a good way to get on a horse, so she began taking deep breaths in attempts at calming herself. Annie was at her side in a second, before she had even made it to the landing. She held out a gray riding hat. Much similar to a man's top hat, but with a black bow trailing off the end. Brooklyn hastily took it and placed it over her French braid.

When they got to the barn, Annie called out for someone to come and help Brooklyn tack up her horse. A older man with a scruffy, graying brown beard approached them, asking which horse she needed tacked.

"Eclipse," Brooklyn told him firmly, just barely remembering the name that Theodore had told her. The man nodded and went to the last stall on the right. From that stall he took a coal-black Arabian gelding, who held his characteristically dished face up high and proud.

"You'll be needin' the side saddle, I presume?" he asked Brooklyn. She noticed that he, too, had an Irish accent.

"No," she snapped sarcastically. "I'll just ride in a working saddle in a skirt!" She was beyond a bad mood, but she felt sorry as soon as the words left her tongue. Before she could apologize, however, the stable hand put Eclipse on cross-ties and stalked towards the tack room in a huff. Annie glared at her, and Brooklyn was sure there were many things that her lady's maid wanted to say to her, but held her tongue. That's why, when the stable hand returned, Brooklyn promptly apologize.

"That was very rude of me," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have snapped when you were only trying to help me." The stable hand looked surprised, and only nodded her head, handing her the reins. He then called a stable boy to help her mount.

"He can get a little fresh, so keep contact on the bit," Brooklyn barely heard the stable boy say. She didn't even look at him. After the apology, there was only one thing she was thinking of doing, and that was getting into the forest. She had so much to think of, she didn't care for the stable boy.

"Thanks," she murmured as he lifted her into the saddle. And before he even had a time to say, "You're welcome", she was trotting away.

She was a little unseated at first, not having ridden since the fall. And that was on a calm, nearly spook-free city horse in Prospect Park. But soon, the memories flooded back, and she was moving to the flowing trot that most Arabians had claim to. She adjusted her hands and her seat, and tightened the leg that was in the regular stirrup.

She waved to her uncle as she passed him in the field on his horse and then moved Eclipse into a canter. Her mount was more than willing to go faster, which Brooklyn held no qualms about. The faster she got away from the plantation, the faster she was able to think freely, and even talk things out with herself with no one to hear and question her sanity.

"I can't believe it," she mumbled to herself, slowing Eclipse to a walk and giving him a pat. "It doesn't make any sense." Was the war of newsies in New York City all her fault? How could it be? And why would Spot attempt to push anyone off the Brooklyn Bridge? It didn't make sense. It made her think that perhaps that there was something underlying the main fact.

Perhaps her running away was the straw that broke the camel's back. After all, how could something so small as two newsies fighting over a girl, and Spot calling her a slut actually cause an all-out newsie war? That didn't make sense. What if, there was something going on behind-the-scenes, something that Brooklyn was never exposed to, perhaps something everyone kept from her.

She remembered back to when Echo attacked her in the alley at night. While she was tip-toeing out the door, she had heard Racetrack, Spot and Jack talking in serious, almost harsh whispers. And that wasn't the first time she had seen or heard them talking at late hours of the night. Maybe, more than one thing, maybe an entire series of events just blew up with Brooklyn running away.

"I have to get out of here," she mumbled to herself. She put her hands forward and kicked Eclipse into a canter. By 'here', she meant her thoughts. Just for a little while, just to clear her head.

_Or maybe,_ she thought to herself as they cantered along a trail. _I need to get out of New York. I may be out physically, but not mentally._ She bent down low to dodge a tree branch. So lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Eclipse slowly accelerating. _Maybe I need to get over the newsies, get over Spot. Just forget about them, all of them, pretend they never existed.___

"Whoah, Eclipse," she said quietly, though a tremor of fear breached her tone. The horse was not stopping, no matter how she pulled on the reins. "Eclipse, slow down." The gelding kept galloping, and she became more fearful. "Eclipse, stop…please!"

Before she even knew what was happening, a horse appeared beside her, and a hand grabbed one of the reins, forcing Eclipse to bend his head to the right and slow down. The other rider guided Eclipse and his mount in a U-shaped turn, and Eclipse slowed to a walk. When the rider, Brooklyn's savior, stopped his horse, Eclipse stopped as well. Without waiting for the other rider to say or do anything, she slid off Eclipse's back, shaking.

She took the reins and walked Eclipse in a slow circle, letting him catch his breath. He bobbed his head and blew out air. He was shaking, very spooked by the loud crack of the branch. She cooed to him in an attempt to calm him down. She had nearly forgotten that the other rider was there, until he spoke.

"You okay there, miss?" his voice sounded familiar, but it wasn't a southern drawl that most of the stable hands had developed. It sounded closer to the accents she had heard on a trip to Chicago. And soon, her savior was standing right in front of her. Blue eyes met green. She almost fainted.

Standing in front of her was a five-feet-eleven-inch, tan, matured, version of Spot. It nearly took the breath out of her. He -whoever he was- was wearing blue dungarees with tan suspenders and a brown shirt. He had dirty-golden-blonde hair that hung partially in front of this right eye. Whoever this was, he could have been Spot's over brother.

And that's why she dropped her eyes, needing to look away. "Yes," she murmured. "I'm fine, thank you for stopping Eclipse."

"I told you he could fresh," said the boy, and she remembered where she recognized his voice. She had seen him on her uncle's plantation before, when she visited last summer. And he was the one to help her mount Eclipse before. He stuck his hand out. "I'm Dawson, Dawson Meyer."

"Brooklyn Pulitzer," she replied, rather shortly. "Did you follow me out here?!" Her tone got sharp as she realized that it was highly improbable that they had just happened upon each other.

"No," Dawson replied hastily. _Liar,_ Brooklyn accused in her head. "I was out mending fences, and when I heard you yell I came to see what was happening." _Liar, liar, liar._ But Brooklyn pretended to believe him. Anything to not prolong their meeting.

"Oh, well then that's a different story entirely," she said. "Mr. Meyer, I-"

"Call me Dawson," Dawson replied. Brooklyn nodded.

"Dawson, then," she corrected. "Will you please help me back onto Eclipse? I should be getting back to the plantation. Uncle will be wondering why I'm taking so long."

"Sure thing, Miss," he said. Brooklyn grabbed the saddle, and put a foot out for Dawson to take. He took it and counted to three. Simultaneously, Brooklyn jumped and pulled up, while Dawson seemed to lift her effortlessly into the saddle. Adjusting her stirrups and her skirt, she took her reins in her hand, thanked Dawson and turned Eclipse back the way they had bolted. Thankfully, the horse had stayed on the trail.

"Wait," Dawson said, and before Brooklyn could even comprehend the speed, Dawson was next to her on his horse. She withheld a groan and asked him what he was doing. "It would be wrong of me not to escort you back. Eclipse is still jumpy, and if he spooks and someone's not there to save you--"  
"I'll run him into the field and into one of the paddocks," Brooklyn snapped sourly. The last thing she wanted was an escort, namely one who looked so much like Spot they could be related. But Meyer, that wasn't an Irish name, they couldn't be related.

"And what if you fall before you make it there?" he asked skeptically. "Your uncle would kill me, and then fire me."

"Uncle Theodore wouldn't have to know," she replied, moving Eclipse into a trot. He was tense, and tossed his head a bit. Dawson was right, he was still spooky.

"When I admitted it, he would," Dawson replied.

"Why would you tell?"

"I've been cursed with a wonderful conscience." Brooklyn rolled her eyes focused ahead of her. Eclipse balked against the bit and tossed his head. He hopped, and Brooklyn almost when over his shoulders.

"Eclipse, calm down, boy," she cooed, determined not to prove to Dawson that she needed an escort. What would her uncle think? What would the plantation hands and stable hands think? What if Theodore had guests over? What would they think? Reputation, reputation, reputation, she had to drill the need to keep hers clean into her head.

"I really don't think you should come with me," Brooklyn snapped, keeping her focus on the prancing and sidestepping Eclipse. This caused Dawson to laugh.

"And why not?" he asked her.

"Think of how it will look if my uncle has any guests over."

"It will look like you're getting escorted-" Brooklyn's thoughts broke her concentration on what Dawson was saying.

**__**

&Flashback&

"I ain't changin my woids fer yas, so don't even ask." Spot told her. While any other would have been insulted, Brooklyn was satisfied with the answer.

"Good," she had replied. "I hate not being treated like an equal with men."

&Flashback&

The memory hit her hard, and she wasn't surprised that it flooded her mind with the subject of her well-being at hand.

__

**_"-and I would look like an inconsiderate, rude, person because-"_**

"Because you didn't help a fragile, helpless girl who couldn't handle her own horse!" she snapped, only paying attention to the part of the sentence Suddenly, all Brooklyn's frustration came to a boil. She kicked Eclipse into a canter, in a poor attempt to get away from Dawson.

"I didn't say we had to walk back," Dawson said, his large bay Quarter Horse easily catching Eclipse with a much larger stride than the Arabian. Brooklyn nearly growled in frustration, but held herself back. She bit her tongue and focused on the trail ahead of her.

She wanted, needed, to get away from Dawson. A bright, physical reminder of Spot was not what she needed right now. Not while she was contemplating if she was the cause of a _war_ going on in New York City. Not while she was contemplating on forgetting her life in New York entirely until she was a bit more stable of mind in thinking about it.

They couldn't reach the plantation soon enough.

When they did, Brooklyn slowed Eclipse to a walk and walked him across the fields and towards the barn. Dawson -who hadn't tried to talk to her for the rest of the ride- was still riding next to her. Brooklyn saw her Uncle and some man she half-recognized standing near the barn and scowled. Great. Now there would be questions and Brooklyn would have to stay around Dawson even longer.

The two men approached as Dawson assisted Brooklyn in dismounting. She snapped a hushed, "Thank-you," and then put on a smile for her uncle and his guest.

"What happened here?" Theodore asked. But Brooklyn was looking at his friend. She remembered him now. Walter Smith. A young business colleague of Theodore. She had met him the previous summer, and remembered him taking particular interest in Antoinette. But now, his light green eyes were focused on Brooklyn. He was handsome, but not enough to take her breath away or cause her gaze to linger longer than need be. She flashed him a quick smile and then turned to her uncle, who was now listening to an explanation from Dawson.

"…so I escorted her back, sir, just in case Eclipse was to spook again," Dawson finished his explanation, and Theodore seemed satisfied, which annoyed Brooklyn. It was then when her uncle turned his attention to his niece, seeming to forget that Dawson was still there.

"Brooklyn, you remember Mr. Smith, don't you?" he asked. Brooklyn supposed he figured she was all right, and didn't ask questions. Either that or he saw the sharpness in her eyes and didn't bother to. Brooklyn smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I do," she replied, looking back to Walter. "Good day, Mr. Smith, how are you?"  
"Good, Miss. Brooklyn. And please, call me Walter," he said with a smile, glancing at Dawson briefly. Brooklyn nodded, but didn't ask him to call her simply 'Brooklyn', instead of Miss., Miss. Pulitzer or Miss. Brooklyn. She felt her uncle's stare on her. Walter noticed too, but ignored it.

"I was wondering, Miss. Brooklyn, if I could be so honored as to be your escort to your Uncle's gala tomorrow evening," Walter said silkily, and then looked to Dawson quickly and back to Brooklyn.

"Gala?" Brooklyn asked, looking to her uncle.

"Well it was going to be a surprise," Theodore said tightly, glancing at Walter disapprovingly. "But I was going to throw you a welcome gala, to present you to the upper class of South Carolina."

"Oh kind of you, Uncle," Brooklyn said with a smile. She looked to Walter, keeping the smile plastered on her face. What was sincere with her uncle was anything but with Walter. She figured she was trapped now, practically forced to choose him as an escort.

"I accept your offer, Walter," she said, and forcing a smile became increasingly difficult as he looked smugly to Dawson. What did the mere stable hand have to do with Walter being her escort? "But if you three would excuse me, I am rather tired after my ride and require some bed rest and my afternoon tea."

"I'll send Annie up immediately, dear," Theodore told her before looking to Dawson. "Take Eclipse for her, will you, Dawson?" Dawson nodded with a 'yes sir', and took the reins from Brooklyn. She muttered a thanks, still unable to look at him. She excused herself from Walter and Theodore and retreated to her room.

When in the confines of her room and Annie off getting her some soup and tea, she was once again able to think. In fact, she was able to do much more than that. She walked over to the desk in the corner and pulled out the chair. Sitting down, she pulled parchment, a fountain pen and a bottle of ink out of the drawers. She poured some ink in the built-in inkwell at the head of the desk and replaced the bottle in the drawer.

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Reasons for the Newsie War

She wrote that title across the top of the paper. Sighing, she closed her eyes and thought deeply. When Annie came in, she didn't move.

"Miss, are ya allrigh'?" her soft voice came over. Brooklyn opened her eyes and looked over. "Yes, I'm fine, Annie," she told the lady's maid. "Just pondering."

"Newsie war?" Annie asked skeptically. "Wha's tha' gotta do with you?" Brooklyn shook her head, and Annie understood that it was none of her business. So instead, she pulled a small table over and placed the tray of tea and soup on it.

"Call if ya need anythan'," she told Brooklyn, who nodded, thanked her and watched her leave. She stared at the paper, as if the reasons were going to pop out on the paper. She sighed, and in large, capital letters wrote:

-**ME (ROOKIE)**

She took her tea cup and took a gentle sip, still pondering. She closed her eyes and took a larger sip of her tea. Suddenly, a thought sprung out of her mind.

-Echo attacking me at night

She underlined it, remembering how Racetrack had told her about Spot being furious about attacking a Manhattan newsie in the dark. And what had the three of them been discussing that night she had tiptoed out of the Lodging House to think?

-What were they always discussing at night?

And the newsies in town said that Spot had intervened on a fight, and wound up getting himself more into it than he was supposed to. Maybe, just maybe… She twirled the pen in her fingers. "Maybe I'm not the cause of this war," she said out loud to herself, as if for reassurance.

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Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Ah, the contradicting part of her mind was always ready to ruin her thoughts.

_Maybe I could figure out why without stressing myself,_ she thought to herself. "I could write a letter!" she exclaimed to herself. **Yeah, that'll work out _great_, **the contradictory part of herself told her. But she ignored it and began her letter.

**_Dear Newsies,_ she began, and then instantly scratched that out. That was quite possibly the WORST way to start a letter.**

**_Dear Cowboy, Race, Mush, and all others at the newsboy lodging house._ She scratched that beginning out too. She couldn't think of how to start the letter, so she decided to write that part after she had written the actual letter. And so she began;**

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By the time you receive this letter, I suppose I've been gone for about a week, maybe two. And you've probably seen the article about my runaway in the newspaper. I'm sorry for whatever is said (I wouldn't know, I myself haven't been allowed to), as it was all said in a whirlwind of emotions. But you have a right to know why I left, and maybe one day I'll be able to tell you in person, because for the sake of everyone at the Lodging House I won't write it freely on paper. You deserve better than that.

But I have a question for you, and perhaps I don't deserve an answer. But I heard from the newsies down here that there's a newsie war taking place up there. Oh, please tell me I'm not the cause of it. I hope I didn't ruin your alliances by punching Spot in the face. I'm so sorry if I have.

I miss you guys, and I'm sorry I ran away. But, it's better like this. I don't belong with you, I don't deserve to belong with you. I was born into a snobby, arrogant, upper-class, and that is where I'll remain. I'm sorry that it had to end this way, and it took something as ridiculous as what happened to make me realize that I didn't belong, and I'm sorry I didn't consult you.

You don't have to respond, but I hope you do. You don't have to forgive me, but I hope you do. I really, truly hope to see you all again some day.

Sincerely,

Brooklyn

Brooklyn looked over her letter with approval, and knew how to open the letter. She added the date and then wrote; **_My dearest friends and family,_ at the top. She folded it and put it in a letter that she found while rummaging through the drawers. She placed the sealed envelope in the top drawer, and hoped she would have time to get into town within the next two days to mail it.**

_I hope this works,_ she thought to herself.

**Yeah, me too.** And for once, every part of her body agreed with itself.

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Author's Note:

But, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, review, even if you didn't, as constructive criticism is always welcome.

A big thanks to

Seren McGowan**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**, **0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**, **ilovenewsies**,** Curly-Q **and **Dimonah Tralon

**for reviewing Chapter 3.**

Okay, a bit of a shorter chapter with a lot going on, no? I'm sorry it took so long. School sucks. Period. 


	5. Who Knows?

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Five: Who Knows?

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Bleh._

**Author's Note:This chapter went under some small changes thanks to an…interesting critique by Taps. -chuckles- I'm sorry I've never seen Gone With the Wind.**

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Brooklyn sighed as she stared in the mirror. Even though she hated to admit it, she found that she couldn't. It was the inevitable and she couldn't escape it. She looked beautiful in the gown that her Uncle had let her buy for her welcoming party, and she liked feeling beautiful. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring herself.

The dress was white silk with black velvet creating a beautiful havoc of elongated heart-shaped designs across the dress, to the very tips of the long train behind it. It was low cut, exposing a bit of her chest that the corset pushed up. The sleeves were made of a thin, white mesh material, and only covered her shoulders. Though no one could see, she wore black leather boots underneath, and they were lined with wool for extra comfort.

Annie had worked a miracle and managed to get all her hair up into a tight bun, only allowing two locks on either side of her face to fall down. She was wearing heavy makeup, and if she turned a certain way she couldn't recognize herself. Black eyeliner outlined her eyes, while mascara made her eyelashes look thick and long. Dark purple powder shaded her eyes and she was given a false-red cheeks with some rose-colored blush.

Brooklyn sighed once more, placing a hand to her forehead. Her mind was still swimming with thoughts and homesickness of New York. _Oh, if the guys could see me now,_ she mused to herself, walking over to her balcony. _Oh, if Spot could-_

No. Bad. Bad, Brooklyn. _We're not supposed be thinking of him, remember?_ she asked herself, staring up at the full moon that was rising in the east. She had to resist the urge to bury her face in her hands, for that would only smear her makeup and lead to her death by Annie. Her lady's maid had warned Brooklyn not to ruin her makeup or there would be hell to pay. And Brooklyn wasn't about to test Annie when she had already upset her lady's maid by yelling at the old stable hand the previous day.

"Thank you very much, Annie," Brooklyn said as she returned to the mirror. "I look beautiful, truly beautiful." Annie smiled with pride, but Brooklyn only felt sick to her stomach. She didn't want to look like this. She didn't want to be standing in this room on her Uncle's plantation on the coast of South Carolina. She wanted to be tired and dirty, just heading back to the Lodging House from a long day of working. She wanted to be in New York.

_Well that's never going to happen again,_ her mind scolded. _So you better get over that life. _Brooklyn took a sharp intake of breath, sending pain to her sides when her ribs attempted to expand against her corset.

"You all righ', miss?" Annie asked her, and Brooklyn nodded.

"Just the corset, Annie," she replied, causing Annie to chuckle and shake her head.

"I'm surprised yer nah' used ta tha' yet," she said, walking around Brooklyn in a circle to inspect every detail of her.

"I don't think I'll ever be used to it, Annie," Brooklyn replied, staring into her reflection in the mirror. "I don't think I will ever be used to wearing women's clothes, after I spent a whole month in men's." Brooklyn sucked in another sharp breath as she realized the words that had escaped her lips. Annie stopped where she was, Brooklyn could see her staring out of the corner of her eye, she could feel the holes they were burning into her.

"Wha' did ya say, Miss?" Annie asked.

"Nothing," Brooklyn replied shortly.

"But-"

"I said nothing that concerns you, Annie." Brooklyn did not like using her 'I'm-your-boss-and-so-much-better-than-you-so-you-better-shut-the-hell-up' voice with Annie, as she knew what it was like to treated like that. But in this case, the words just spilled out, and Annie went as silent as stone. Instantly, Brooklyn wanted to apologize, but she didn't want to arouse suspicious questions.

A sharp round of knocking came from the door and Annie went to answer it. Brooklyn only heard the raspy sound of whispers and then the door closed once more, and Annie was beaming. "It's time," she said. "You look gorgeous, Miss. Don' you dare smudge yer makeup."

"I won't, Annie," Brooklyn replied, walking toward the door. Annie fussed over her as she went, fixing a ruffle here, a wrinkle there, and making sure the hair pins were tight and able to hold.

"And don' trip down the stairs," Annie said as they walked down the hallway toward the main stair case. Brooklyn chuckled and shook her head lightly.

"I won't fall down the stairs, Annie."

"And don' forge' ta pick up yer dress a wee bit in the fron', it really is long."

"I won't forget, Annie."

"Miss Brooklyn?" Annie said quietly.

"Yes, Annie?" Brooklyn replied as they stopped in front of the doors that would lead to the stairs that would lead to the main room that would lead her to the awaiting arm of Walter Smith, her escort.

"Ya look beautiful, Miss," she stated.

"You've said that twice already," Brooklyn replied with a raise of an eyebrow.

"I know, bu' it seems ta me tha' ya need ta be reminded."

"Does it?"

"Yes."

Brooklyn wanted to reply, but her name was announced and the doors were opened. So Annie pushed her forward and she began her walk to the banister. She smiled briefly and turned her attention to the stairs. She picked her dress up so that the toes of her boots were just hardly visible, just as Annie had reminded her to. She took light, delicate steps so she wouldn't slip or get caught on her dress.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her uncle was waiting for her, offering his elbow. She took it and he toted her around the room, introducing her to many people she would never be able to remember the names to.

_Uncle Theodore sure can throw a party,_ Brooklyn thought to herself as she said hello to Mr. Hanshaw and his wife, Patricia. Nearly everyone was devoid of the strong southern drawl that the lower-class possessed. But Brooklyn wasn't surprised. No one would be able to know that she was from New York unless she told them. They were wealthy and educated, the accents of a region hardly affected them. Though, there were a few "accents" that could be heard. They were very noticeably fake, but no one said anything. The class just acted as if they were real, and sooner or later they began to believe they truly were.

Finally, they came across Walter Smith, and Brooklyn felt her Uncle hesitate. Walter donned a bright smile, his green eyes lighting up when he set them upon Brooklyn. She caught his eyes wander and felt the blood rush to her cheeks in anger.

"Are you sure?" Theodore asked her under his breath as they approached Walter.

"Is there reason for me not to be?" Brooklyn questioned. Theodore opened his mouth, but cut himself off as Walter approached.

"Miss. Brooklyn, you look stunning," he said in a silky tone that sent shivers up Brooklyn's spine. But they weren't good shivers, the shivers she had gotten with Spot that had caused her to blush and turn away or smile broadly. These shivers were a warning.

"Why thank you, Mr. Smith," Brooklyn replied. Her guard had gone up, and she didn't want any closeness with this man. Theodore sent her a quick, tense glance, but Brooklyn nearly smiled it off.

"Didn't I ask you to call me Walter?" Walter asked with a suggesting smile. Brooklyn kept her forced smile.

"I'm sorry, but I'd rather not," she replied smoothly. "For you see, I haven't seen you in ages and I don't feel comfortable calling you by your first name, yet." Walter nodded and told her that it was "quite all right, dear, quite all right". Brooklyn didn't like how he called her 'dear' so quickly. Her smile was slowly vanishing, but she made sure to keep her lips in a small, tight-lipped smile.

"Don't worry, Theodore," Walter said, focusing his attention on Brooklyn's uncle. "I will take good care of your niece." Theodore smiled and nodded, releasing his hold on Brooklyn's elbow and letting Walter take it.

Brooklyn smiled one more time at her Uncle before she was swept away toward the dance floor by Walter. They began to dance amongst other couples, Walter holding her unusually close for two people who didn't know each other very well. But Brooklyn didn't know what to say or how to say it without being rude or offensive, so she kept her mouth tightly shut.

Unlike when she had been dancing with Cal at her uncle's holiday ball, Brooklyn wasn't bored out of her mind. She was slightly frightened by this Walter, especially because he had made her uncle hesitate before he walked toward her and gave her to him. Something just wasn't right, and Brooklyn couldn't put her finger on it. And the silence between them only made her mind wander back to New York, which agitated to her. And she could swear that every time she looked to one of the windows surrounding the ballroom, she saw someone duck out of view.

"You truly look stunning, Miss. Brooklyn," Walter told her as he spun her around. Brooklyn merely thanked him and forced a smile. She thought he wouldn't continue, but he proved her wrong. "And I don't seem to be the only one who has noticed."

"Oh?" Brooklyn actually blushed at the comment, and adverted her eyes to just passed him, to the window. She could have sworn she saw a person duck under the window pane again, but turned her attention back to Walter, who had plagued her with speaking once more.

"Oh, many eyes are on you this night," he responded. "Especially that stable hand that's looking in through the window." Walter chuckled. "That lowly peon could hardly keep his eyes off you." That's when Brooklyn stopped dancing, and Walter almost pulled her off her feet when he went to turn, not expecting her to stop so quickly.

"Excuse me, Mr. Smith," she said, her voice tight. "But my head is rather clouded, as it is quite hot in here. I believe I will have to clear my head out on the porch." Walter frowned.

"Would you like an escort?"

"I shan't need one," Brooklyn replied rather shortly.

"That was not the question I asked."

"No, I would not like an escort." And with that, she thanked him for the dances and excused herself. She found her Uncle and told him that she was going out to get some fresh air.

"Please make sure he doesn't follow me out, Uncle," she pleaded in an undertone, and her Uncle's back went rigid. "He's a bit rude, and I don't want to be alone with him." Theodore nodded, and walked off to engage Walter in a conversation. Brooklyn thanked him under her breath and found her way out of the room.

When she was out on the ballroom she headed straight out to the porch. As soon as she hit the cool air, she took the deepest breath she could and looked around. No sign of Dawson anywhere. But Walter saw him too, so he had to be somewhere. But at the moment, she could care less. She took another 'deep' breath and sat in one of the rocking chairs, moving back and forth gently.

"Got a little stuffy in there, huh?" The voice almost threw Brooklyn over the side of the chair.

"Dawson!" she exclaimed, focusing on a crack in the porch. She didn't want to look at him, she didn't want to see the extreme physical resemblance between him and Spot. She knew she would have to face him -Dawson and Spot alike- someday, but she wasn't sure what her reaction would be.

"I'm sorry, Miss, did I scare you?" Brooklyn could hear the smile in his voice and she shook her head. "Then may I ask why you almost fell out of your chair?" Brooklyn stood up and started to walk away from him.

"I did not 'almost fall out of my chair'," she said, not even glancing over her shoulder. "I merely lost my balance, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Uh-huh," Dawson replied. "Well, why didja leave the party anyway? Was it getting too boring for you?"

"_You_ would certainly know if it was becoming dull," Brooklyn snapped, and the footsteps behind her faltered. "Don't pretend that you weren't spying on the gala through the window. Walter and I both saw you."

"Beg my pardon, Miss," Dawson began, and in one or two quick steps, he was next to Brooklyn. "But I wasn't spying on the party."

"Oh?" Brooklyn asked, the tone in her voice raising. "And just what were you spying on then, hmm?"

"It's not a what," Dawson replied easily. "She's more of a 'who'." Brooklyn focused intently on the porch ahead of her. "Excuse me, Miss, but it was you I was spying on." Brooklyn stopped in her tracks and fought herself not to look over at Dawson. She bristled and turned the other way, marching off.

But she was stopped.

"Wait up there, partner," Dawson said, and pulled so gently, yet with so much force, that Brooklyn spun around and faced him.

"Please let go of me, Dawson," she asked quietly, staring at the black buttons of his black shirt.

"Ya know, it's kinda rude not to look at someone when you're talking to them," Dawson said.

"Well, you know, it's kind of rude to hold someone against their will," Brooklyn snapped, keeping her eyes adverted. Dawson merely chuckled, but released her arm.

"God, what's happen to you that you won't even look a guy in the eye?" he whispered, causing Brooklyn to draw a sharp breath. He seemed to be joking, but there was a very serious tone edging his words.

_You have no idea,_ Brooklyn thought to herself.

"Leave me alone," she said flatly, looking out over to the stables. The lights were on in the stable house, and she could hear the faint sound of beating drums.

"Look me in the eyes, and I'll leave you alone."

Brooklyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She turned her head to Dawson and opened her eyes. Green clashed with blue, and she wanted to look away. But she found herself unable to, and in mere moments she was glad she didn't.

No matter how much Dawson looked like Spot, their eyes…their eyes were different. They were both blue, and very similar in shading. But instead of having a gray undertone like Spot, Dawson's eyes had an undertone of a darker blue. While Spot's were often cold, guarded, mysterious, Dawson's eyes were warm and welcoming.

Brooklyn smiled.

"That's a much better reaction than I had planned, Miss," Dawson said, returning the smile.

"Brooklyn, call me Brooklyn," she replied, adverting her eyes to her hands, with which she was now fumbling.

"Well, Brooklyn," Dawson began, glancing in one of the windows. "It doesn't seem that you are presently missed inside." He paused. "How would you like to go to a real party?" Brooklyn furrowed her brow, but before she could question him, Dawson held out his hand. "You'll enjoy it, trust me." Tentatively, she took his hand, and mirrored his smile.

He began to lead her toward the barn house, and the beating of the drums became louder. "You're taking me to a workers' party?" she asked him, eyeing the barn house warily.

"Just trust me," he replied.

"But what if one of the workers says something?"

"They won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I told them not to."

Brooklyn bit her lip and then quickly licked her teeth to remove any lipstick that she may have gotten on them when she bit her lip. _Damnit,_ she thought to herself. _I hope I got all of the lipstick off._ Why had she even agreed to go with him? She barely knew him, other than as a stable boy. And yet, with a few simple words he was able to convince her to go to party that the workers were allowed once a month. And as Dawson and Brooklyn walked toward the barn house, as the beating of the drum became louder, she began to question her sanity and the effect Spot had on it.

When they entered, a few eyes turned to Dawson and Brooklyn, but that was all. Brooklyn exhaled, her presence seemed to be unheeded. "Do you often bring my uncle's guests to this sort of thing?" she asked, looking up to Dawson. He chuckled.

"It's been known to happen…" he trailed, his eyes fixed ahead of him. "Come on, we don't got a lot of time. Let's dance." And before she even knew what was happening, Dawson grabbed her hand and swept her to a cleared area where many pairs were dancing.  
"I don't know this dance," Brooklyn protested nervously, suddenly very self conscious in her gown compared to the working dresses the others wore.

"I do," Dawson replied. "Just follow my lead."

He began to pull her around the dance floor, twirling her in and out. It wasn't long before Brooklyn realized the easy steps and performed them well enough. Most of the dance consisted of the two of them hop-stepping in a circle, and every twelve or so steps Dawson would twirl her out and bring her back in. Before long, she was feeling quite dizzy. She tripped, and almost brought Dawson to the floor when she grabbed his shoulders for support.

"Are you okay?" Dawson asked her, which he realized was rather superfluous as the words spilled out of his mouth. Brooklyn was laughing. Despite it, she had heard his question and nodded. When she looked at Dawson, a small smile appeared on his lips. He wasn't laughing at her, like she expected him to, but he looked fascinated.

"What?" she asked, still giggling.

"You should do that more often," Dawson replied.

"Do what?"

"Smile."

"What do you mean?" Brooklyn asked as the drum slowed down and their steps moved to a familiar waltz-step. "I smile."

"In the three years that I've worked on your uncle's plantation, Brooklyn, I haven't seen you smile, really smile, not once. Sure, I'll see a fake smile or perhaps a grin or a smirk, but never a genuine smile." Brooklyn was speechless, because Dawson was right. Besides when she was alone with a book, her father or Rose, before she became a newsie, before she got away from Mary-Ann and Antoinette, she was never truly happy.

"You look beautiful, do you know that?" Dawson asked, his same fascinated smile on his lips. Brooklyn couldn't help blushing. How could she have been visiting her uncle's plantation since she could remember, and in the last three years not have noticed Dawson? She struggled to find her words in her flattery, but they finally came to her.

"You sound as if I haven't looked in a mirror," Brooklyn replied, nearly mirroring Dawson's smile.

"Well, it seems to me that you're the kind of girl that needs to be reminded," he replied, and Brooklyn almost stopped dancing. She remembered Annie telling her almost exactly the same thing before she entered the ballroom. What were they seeing in her that told them she was insecure, that she was hurting? Was it plainly that obvious? Could others see it, too? Her smile must have faded, because suddenly Dawson looked concerned.

"Are you all right, Brooklyn?" he asked her, and she shook her head, looking up at him. She nearly screamed, because it was that same face she had woken up to from her sleep only a few days ago. That was Spot's face.

"I..I…Dawson, I have to go," she said brusquely before releasing her hands from his and finding her way through the workers.

She made it through the front door of the plantation before Dawson could hit the porch steps, and closed the door slowly behind her, as not to make so much of a spectacle. It was Theodore who approached her first, obvious concern in his eyes.

"Where were you?" he asked, loud enough for all the other guests to look over. They, too, must have noticed her absence and be curious about the means to her disappearance.

"Clearing my head, I needed the fresh air," she tried to convey with her eyes that this was not the true reason.

"No one saw you on the porch," another voice cut in. It was Walter.

"I was not only on the porch, Mr. Smith," Brooklyn replied coolly. "I went to the stables to visit my horse."

"Well, you gave us a bit of a fright, my dear," Theodore said quickly, before Walter could reply.

"I'm sorry uncle," Brooklyn said with a forced smile. She looked to around the room. "And I'm terribly sorry for my rudeness, my lovely guests." There were murmurs and smiles in return, and the music became louder and dancing ensued.

----

"My dear, will you come with me to my study?" Theodore asked Brooklyn as they bid the last guest, Walter, a farewell and a good night. Brooklyn nodded and followed him into the study and he motioned for her to sit on the chair in front of his desk. He took his seat behind his desk, folded his hands and placed them on the desk and stared straight into Brooklyn's eyes.

"Now, in the privacy of only us, will you please explain where you really went?" he asked. "And what has gotten you upset?"

Brooklyn found herself spilling the whole story. It seemed that after all her lies to her family, she couldn't do it anymore. Her mind was too much of a turmoil to make up lies, and she figured the truth would come out, one way or another.

"I know," Theodore's reply nearly caused Brooklyn to fall out of her seat. She had told him where she had been, and whom she had been with. And Uncle Theodore had told her that he had known! "I saw you two walking toward the barn. I didn't come after to you because, well, I believed that it would be good for you."

"How…why?" Brooklyn asked. _Not him, too_, she thought to herself. Brooklyn had already heard from two people that said they could see that there was something wrong with her, that someone had hurt her, that she wasn't happy. She didn't need a third.

"Because, Dawson is an honorable man, one of the best workers I have," Theodore replied. "I knew he would not doing anything to compromise you, and that there was a possibility that you might have fun. I know you are not happy, though you put on a good show. Now please, tell me what is bothering you. What is _really_ bothering you. If you tell me that you miss your mother, sister, Uncle Joseph and Calvin, I will disown you. I want you to tell me the truth."

Brooklyn was taken aback by the outburst of her Uncle Theodore. He was usually a calm, collected, understanding individual. But something seemed to have him on edge this night, and it was worrying Brooklyn. She wondered if something had happened between him and Walter, but didn't have time to think on it, because Uncle Theodore was waiting patiently for an answer.

"It all began about a week or two before Christmas," Brooklyn began. "With Uncle Joseph's Christmas party…" and she began her story. It took at least an hour to explain in full detail, and by the end, Brooklyn was mumbling, very tired from dancing and the stress on her mind.

"All right," Theodore said, nodding his head. "That's quite a story. Do your-"

"Mother, sister and Uncle Joseph know?" Brooklyn filled in. Theodore nodded. "No. Please, _please,_ don't tell them. I'm not quite sure why I have spilled the truth to you now. I'm starting to believe that my sanity is slipping away."

"That happens," Theodore began carefully. "When the one you love crushes you in such a brutal manner." Brooklyn hung her head. "But I stand by what I said earlier."

"I'm sorry, but I am very tired, Uncle," Brooklyn stated. "But what did you say earlier?"

"That Dawson would be good for you."

Brooklyn's eyes widened, her eyebrows raised. "What do you-"

"You know what I mean, my dear," Theodore replied. "If the cards of Fate shall fall that way. But please, for the sake of the reputation our family names; Rutger and Pulitzer, please keep it private."

"Uncle, I don't believe that it will happen the way you predict it to," Brooklyn said tentatively.

"We shall see, my dear niece, we shall see," her uncle replied. "After all, who truly knows what Fate has in store for us?" Brooklyn just stared at him in utter disbelief of the words that were tumbling freely out of his mouth. "But for now, sleep. You are tired, and deserve a good night's sleep. I will remind Annie not to wake you too early tomorrow."

"Goodnight Uncle," Brooklyn could barely speak as she rose from her chair and exited the study.

She walked up the stairs, through the double doors and to her room with her eyes on the ends of her dress. She went the motions of getting ready for bed in a mechanic, and didn't even respond in her usual way when Rose and Bear asked for attention. She got dressed for bed, lay down and closed her eyes. Wish and Rose curled up next to her, and Annie whispered "goodnight" as she left the room. But Brooklyn was hardly aware.

_Who knows what will happen from now on,_ she thought to herself. _I don't understand why Uncle Theodore was so permissive at the thought of me being courted by a stable boy. I don't understand at all. I don't know when I'll be able to return to New York, and if and when I do, what will happen to me, with the newsies when I return?_

And as she drifted off to sleep, the words of Annie, Walter, Dawson and her Uncle Theodore floated around her mind.

__

"…it seems ta me tha' ya need ta be reminded."

"Oh, many eyes are on you this night. Especially that stable hand that's looking in through the window. That lowly peon could hardly keep his eyes off you."

"God, what's happen to you that you won't even look a guy in the eye?"

"We shall see, my dear niece, we shall see. After all, who truly knows what Fate has in store for us?"

Her mind exhausted, she slept a dreamless sleep that night.

**__**

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Author's Note:

A HUGE thank you to the reviewers of Chapter Four. Thank you

ilovenewsies**,** NeverBeTamed**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** Seren McGowan**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** **and **IrishStorm **for your fantastic reviews. I hope I did not let you (and all those readers who haven't reviewed (please do, I love to hear from you guys) or made yourself heard about my fics) down.**

xEquestriad


	6. I'm With You

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Six: I'm With You**

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Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies and I never will. Rub it in some more, why doncha?

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**Brooklyn, New York**

Why was he thinking about her? She was just another girl. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of girls in the city, and all would jump out of their boots when he smiled at them. He could have any girl that he wanted.

Then why was he still thinking about Brooklyn? Why in the world were his thoughts glued onto her golden hair and her sharp, intense green eyes?

He had seen the letter, of course he had. Cowboy had showed it to everyone that Brooklyn was friends with, even though there was a point when he thought they had been more than just friends. Cowboy had crossed enemy territory and showed it to him, even though he was the reason she left.

Their last minutes flashed before his eyes. That kiss…that word…that punch…her running away from him as fast as she could. The headline that next afternoon promised a twisted tale of how Brooklyn had been manipulated and bribed into staying with the newsies and keeping her mouth shut. Supposedly the article had explained the "whole story", but he couldn't bring himself to read the first sentence.

When he read the letter, his heart had jerked. She had only mentioned him once. The letter was not meant for his eyes, only for the eyes for the Manhattan newsies.

"Are ya gonna reply?" he had asked Cowboy.

"Maybe, we's dunno yet," Cowboy replied with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Why'd ya show me dis?" he asked. And that's when he knew. Cowboy shrugged his shoulders, smirked and left the lodging house, whistling as he went. He left the letter on Spot's bed. Cowboy did that on purpose to affect him. It was a clever plan, but at first he didn't think it would work. It was cheap trick, and he just didn't fall for that sort of strategy. But this time it was a different situation.

It worked.

He didn't know how it managed to, but it did. And now he couldn't get Brooklyn off his mind. He couldn't get the feeling out of the pit of his stomach; the feeling that he would never see her face again, never touch her skin, never kiss her lips.

"Dis is shit!" he exclaimed, kicking the hat of one of his newsies across the bunkroom. Luckily his newsies were out to lunch, and no questions about his odd behavior were raised. He wouldn't know how to answer.

Of course his newsies didn't know why his attitude was doing complete one-hundred and eighty degree turns over the past two weeks. Of course they didn't know why he ate, sold his papes, planned strategies for the newsie war newly raging on the streets, and then retreated to his private room. No one knew why the dark circles had started appearing under his eyes. No one could figure out why he had almost thrown Racetrack, a good friend from Manhattan, off the side of the Brooklyn Bridge when Race had threatened to soak anyone who didn't let him get to the leader. No one knew why he had got in the middle of Rusty and Race when he knew that Manhattan and Brooklyn were walking on thin ice, on the brink of war with each other.

He paced back and forth, glancing out the window nervously. He watched the streets anxiously, hoping he would see her, hoping a miracle would happen.

Who would have thought it was possible that he, would ever, _ever_, be beating himself up over a girl. Who would have ever thought that it was possible that he, the Great and Powerful Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, would ever fall in love. That his insides were tearing themselves apart every day knowing she was gone.

He slipped out one of the windows onto the fire escape and into the freezing air. He was warmed by the fleece shirt that Brooklyn had bought him, something that he would only wear if he was alone. His newsies couldn't know…

He stood on the roof and stared over at his bridge. Every moment he spent with Brooklyn flew through his mind, hardly allowing him to latch onto one or the other at one time.

_"I wouldn't be doin' that if I was yous," _he had said when he saw her, a girl that so resembled Song, about to end her life with a bullet through her skull. _"It's not healthy." _

_"And who are you to tell me what I should and should not do?"_

_The first time he had seen her with Cal, the near-foreign emotion he had not felt in two years that rose in his stomach. "Don't call him 'sir', Brooklyn," Cal had cut in and told Brooklyn as she tried to be polite toward._

_"Sorry sir,"_

_"I have to go, Spot," she had said after their first walk in the park with each other. "It was really nice talking to you." She held out her hand for him to shake, but Spot had other ideas. Instead, he had taken her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. He enjoyed watching her cheeks redden, more than perhaps he should have._

_"I saw a richie do dat once and I always wanted ta try it," he explained further so she would calm down. This had caused Brooklyn to laugh as she nodded. What a laugh. It was then that he realized that she was nothing like Song._

_Other moments had run through his mind as he stared out at the Brooklyn Bridge, good and bad. He wasn't comprehending the movement of time, the sun moving in the sky, or the sound of his newsies returning to the lodging house. He just stood there, he just stood there and stared._

_--_

**Georgetown, South Carolina**

**3 days earlier**

Brooklyn paced back and forth in her room, thoughts running through her mind like a herd of horses galloping together in a small, tight paddock. Too many at once, two tight a space.

She didn't know what to do about Dawson, even though her uncle had clearly declared his side. "Dawson would be good for you," he had said, which only boggled Brooklyn's mind further. Why would he allow her, or even think of allowing her to see a stable boy? At first she had thought he had a little too much to drink, but when she asked him the next day, he stayed by his original statement.

So, confused and afraid that her brain was in danger of exploding, Brooklyn avoided Dawson. For the past week and a half she had been avoiding him at all costs, but she was growing tired of it, and knew she had to face Dawson sooner or later. She was beginning to favor the thought of sooner.

But what would she say to him? "Thanks for inviting me to a party, Dawson. Thanks for being absolutely fantastic toward me, even when I didn't deserve it. But the thing is, you look like this guy I was practically in love with back in New York who called me a slut, except your eyes, but you still remind me of him so I don't want to talk to you?"

Yes, I'm sure that would go over splendidly, Brooklyn thought bitterly to herself as she sat down on her bed. Bear and Rose played at her feet, not understanding why they were being ignored.

She knew she had to go to Dawson and apologize now, while it was still on her mind. If she waited until later, she would find some excuse not to go see him, and put it off another day. And she figured that she would continue the trend for tomorrow and the day after that and so on. She got up, looked at herself once in the mirror and leashed her two dogs. They were going for a walk.

Brooklyn walked down the balcony stairs and toward the stables. If anyone asked, she would reply that she wanted to get Bear used to horses and vice versa. Rose was coming along with her to serve as an example. She walked to the stable as inconspicuously as she could. As soon as she reached the barn, she let out a sigh of relief. No one was there, and no one had noticed her.

She moseyed over to Eclipse's stall, holding her hand out for her gelding to sniff. He extended his black muzzle out and nudged her palm gently. Bear wriggled and barked excitedly, and the gelding almost flew to the back of his stall.

"Bear, no!" Brooklyn admonished immediately, then began cooing to Eclipse to get him to calm down. His nostrils were flaring, and his eyes were rolling white.

"You should introduce them when Eclipse is in the paddock, when they've both got room to react to each other naturally." The voice behind Brooklyn startled her. When she turned around, her eyes met Dawson's warm gaze.

"This is how I introduced Rose to horses," Brooklyn replied.

"No two dogs are the same, Miss."

So he had gone back to calling her Miss. Brooklyn felt bad.

"I'm sorry, Dawson," she said quietly.

"It's a common mist-"

"No," Brooklyn cut him off. "I'm not sorry for you thinking I know nothing about dogs. I'm sorry for my behavior the other night. It was rude and horrid and -"

"Understandable," Dawson replied with a wave of his hand.

"Excuse me?" Brooklyn said, taken aback by his reply. What did he mean by it was understandable?

"Well obviously you've got somethin' else on your mind," he replied.

"But that doesn't excuse rude behavior," Brooklyn said. "So please, just let me apologize without making me feel any worse about the incident."

"I forgive you," Dawson replied. He waited a moment before continuing. He seemed to be studying Brooklyn closely. It made her feel like she was under a magnifying glass, and wound up adverting her eyes.

"Why do you do that?" Dawson asked her suddenly, and Brooklyn shrugged her shoulders.

"It's something I do when I get nervous," she replied, tapping to toe of her boot in the dirt.

"Oh," he replied, and Brooklyn looked up. Suddenly he smirked. "I make you nervous?" Brooklyn's cheeks flushed red and Dawson chuckled. "I do make you nervous, don't I?" Brooklyn's eyes widened and then her brow furrowed. With a sharp "Uh!" she whistled to her dogs and started back to her stairs.

"Aw, Brooklyn," Dawson said, catching up to her. "I was just jokin' with you." Though she was happy that he had called her Brooklyn, she turned around and glared at him, causing Dawson to chuckle. "Oh, don't look at me like that." Brooklyn glared on.

"Give me one reason not to," she snapped, though she was softening.

"Let's go for a ride on the trails sometime," he said quickly. "I know one trail that I think you would like, right down by the beach."

"How would you know what I like?" Brooklyn questioned, raising one eyebrow. She was slightly afraid of this stable boy who seemed to know so much about her.

"I heard you telling someone last time you were here," he replied. "I guess that memory just stuck. So what do you say?" Brooklyn looked at him skeptically, analyzing the situation in her mind.

"I suppose it wouldn't be terrible," she said slowly, still unsure with herself for putting this trust in someone she didn't really know. But if her Uncle trusted him, she supposed that she could trust him, too. "When?" Dawson smiled.

"I'll let you know," he said. His name was called in the barn, and Annie called Brooklyn's name from the balcony.

"I guess I'll be waiting to hear from you," she told him before turning and going up to the balcony to meet Annie at the top. Dawson said something as she went, a farewell of some sorts, but Brooklyn didn't hear. She was too focused on the fact that she had just accepted to go on a trail ride with someone she hardly knew, with reasoning that she could hardly grasp. What was wrong with her?

**--Three Days Later--**

Brooklyn ran her fingers down the front of her riding habit coat, buttoning it quickly. Annie placed the emerald green habit hat atop the tight bun she had pulled Brooklyn's hair back into.

"So," Annie began, trailing off as she watched Brooklyn spin in front of her mirror, admiring her emerald green riding habit. "What are you an' Dawson goin' ta be doin'? Damn boy's been silen' as stone when anyone mentions wha' yer doin' tahday." Brooklyn shrugged.

"All I know is that we're going to ride one of the trails all the way to the beach," she said, taking another glance at the mirror before turning to Annie. The lady's maid was nodding her head slowly, as if Brooklyn's simple explanation had answered any and all questions she had.

"Scuse me a mo', Miss," she said quickly, heading for the door. "But I haveta go check somethin'. I'll only be a few minutes. Jus' wai' here till I ge' back." Brooklyn opened her mouth to protest and question her lady's maid, but the door had already slammed behind Annie.

That was odd, Brooklyn thought to herself. I guess Dawson has done this before. That thought stung a bit, surprising Brooklyn. So what if he had done this with other girls, what did she care? Brings back some memories, huh? She shook her head and put her hand on her forehead. She looked in the mirror again and brushed off a piece of lint that had found its way onto her arm.

It felt like seconds to Brooklyn, but in reality, Annie returned five minutes from when she left. When Brooklyn asked her maid where she had been, Annie just ignored her and walked over to the balcony stairs.

"Ya ready, miss?" Annie asked, opening the small gate. Brooklyn nodded and walked down the steps and straight toward the barn.

Dawson came walking out of the barn leading two horses. One was Eclipse, the other the dark bay Quarter Horse, Boss, he had been riding the day Brooklyn and him had met. Brooklyn noticed that both horses were wearing saddlebags. Seeing her eyes wander to them, Dawson explained:

"This ride isn't going to take a few minutes," he told her. "So we've got a light lunch packed." Brooklyn didn't say anything, she just nodded and walked over to Eclipse.

Dawson helped her mount, and when she was settled in the saddle, he mounted his horse also. When they were both set, they headed out to the trail.

"Is this your first time riding out to the beach?" Dawson asked casually. Brooklyn shook her head, staring out across the field toward the opening of the trails.

"When have you been before?"

"A few years ago with my father," Brooklyn replied, her voice catching at the word 'father'. Dawson caught her eyes and stopped the words he was forming before he even said the first word aloud. He knew about the death of Brooklyn's father, everyone did. When Brooklyn, Mary-Ann and Antoinette had visited the plantation in the past October, they were still wearing black.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, until they hit a trail. "I'm sorry about your father," Dawson said, and Brooklyn nodded, murmuring a few words of thanks. "But that's not why you're acting this way, is it?" Brooklyn shook her head. "Will you tell me?" Brooklyn shrugged, and Dawson was quiet again.

It wasn't that Brooklyn didn't want to talk to Dawson. It was that she didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to talk to him, and it was making her nervous. The only time she had felt something like this was when she was with Spot. But with Spot, she was afraid that she would look ridiculous or say something that would insult him, completely on accident. This was different. She didn't want to say anything that would cause her and Dawson to become any closer.

How long she was going to be in South Carolina, she didn't know. She didn't know what would happen when and if she returned to New York. There was a part of her that wanted to forget the newsies, and then another part of her was afraid to forget them. What if she forgot them, freed herself of the wrong-doings she hurt them with, and then was brought back to them? What would she do? What if she forgot about Spot and he…

No, she told herself firmly, pursing her lips together. Spot would never apologize, never go crawling back to anyone. It's just not who he is.

"Are you all right?" Dawson asked. Brooklyn remembered that she was with company and relaxed her lips. She nodded and focused ahead on the trail.

"Let's let the horses stretch their legs," she said. She clucked her tongue and tapped Eclipse's side with her heel. The Arabian sprung forward into a canter, and Dawson and Boss caught up quickly.

They were silent for the rest of the ride. Dawson seemed to sense that Brooklyn did not want to talk, and he respected it. This pleased Brooklyn, for she had known no man who had ever left a woman alone, especially when they knew something was wrong.

The forest opened into flat land and the dirt turned to sand. Dunes rose and dune grass turned the white scenery green. Brooklyn could smell the salty ocean and was keen to see it. Eclipse began prancing in excitement, and Boss pricked his ears forward.

The ocean came into sight, and Brooklyn smiled. She loved the ocean. Though she didn't know how to swim -none of the women in her class did-, she enjoyed sitting near it and smelling the salt and relaxing in the sun.

But here it was windy and a bit chilly. She took hold of her hat and pushed it down on to her head to prevent it from flying away. She would not ask Dawson to go after it, even though she knew he would anyway. She was glad that her habit had full sleeves and tight cuffs, or she would have been very cold.

"Where do you wanna set up?" Dawson asked. Brooklyn told him that wherever he liked was fine with her.

They walked down the beach for a few minutes before Dawson hopped off Boss and declared the spot perfect. He walked over and helped her down from Eclipse. Then he took both Boss' and Eclipse's reins and flipped them over the horses' heads, letting them drop to the ground. "They won't move an inch, now," he explained. "It's how they're trained." Brooklyn nodded, though she already knew that.

Dawson removed a large sheet from one of his saddle bags and placed it on the sand. He put two handfuls of sand on each corner to prevent the wind from taking the sheet with it as it blew down the beach. He motioned for Brooklyn to sit and she obliged, picking up her skirt just slightly as she kneeled down so it formed a circle of fabric around her.

Dawson placed a cloth with small sandwiches on them between them. He sat down with his legs crossed and leaned forward slightly, placing his clasped hands on his ankles.

"Tell me everything," he said, and Brooklyn raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I tell you?" she asked carefully.

"Because I'll tell you everything about me," he replied with a smile.

"Why do I care?"

"You're right, it's not that interesting," Dawson admitted. "In fact, I'll tell you first." He paused and ran one of his hands through his hair.

"My name is Dawson Meyer, and I am seventeen years-old," he began. "I was born in Chicago, Illinois. My mother and father were both killed in a fire before I turned one years-old-"

"I'm so sorry," Brooklyn said quickly.

"It's all right, I never knew 'em, so I guess I can't miss 'em," Dawson replied before continuing on with his story. "So I was sent to live with my grandparents out on a farm. Well, when they died, I took a train down here and found work on the plantation. Not an interesting life at all." Brooklyn agreed silently. Except for the death of his parents, Dawson had lived the normal life expected. Grow up one place, move to another and work for the rest of your life.

"Your turn," Dawson said, taking a bit of one of the small sandwiches. Brooklyn took a deep breath.

"My name is Brooklyn Pulitzer, and I am almost sixteen years-old," she began in a similar fashion to Dawson. "I was born in Brooklyn, New York." Dawson smirked, and Brooklyn glared. "Yes, I got my name from where I was born, and I've been ridiculed since I was a child. Anyway. I grew up in the lap of luxury my whole life." She explained briefly of her mother, father and sister. She skipped over her father's death, not wanting to bring it up and knowing Dawson would know that he was killed.

"Then," she continued. "One day I met this newsie and decided about two weeks later that I was going to run away with him and become one also." Dawson raised his eyebrows. "Absurd, I know," she replied. "But it made perfect sense at the time. Anyway, I lived as a newsie for about two weeks and I got very sick. I took medicine and became better, but then fell ill once more. This time much worse than the first. After a fight with the original newsie that had convinced me to run away, I ran back to my family, and then was sent here."

Dawson whistled. "That's impressive," he said. "Fitting all of your life into about five minutes."

"You fit yours into all of two," Brooklyn replied with a smile, glad he had not judged her for being a newsie.

"Yeah, but that's coz I don't have the interesting life you had," he replied, and Brooklyn laughed.

"Interesting is a good way to put it," she said, staring out to the ocean.

"So, that newsie, the one who convinced you to become a newsie…what happened between you two?"

Brooklyn cast her eyes to the sheet and pushed the cloth of sandwiches away from her. "Well, I thought I loved him, and that it was possible that he loved me…it just didn't work out. And that fight finalized it."

"So that's who took your smile," Dawson muttered, and Brooklyn wasn't sure if she was supposed to hear it.

"You deserve better," he said out loud, and it caused Brooklyn to look up. His eyes met hers, and she almost began to tear up. She could feel the hot tears pricking her eyes. It was because when she looked into Dawson's eyes, she saw nothing but honesty. It reminded her of Spot, but then again, it was completely different. Right off, Brooklyn knew she could trust Dawson. She knew her uncle's words were true. And this hurt her. She wished she had seen this before, wished she had seen what Spot was capable of doing. She wished she had listened to Cowboy.

"Who do you have in mind?" she asked him, her voice catching in her throat.

"You're lookin' at him," he replied quietly. They broke the eye contact quickly following this statement, and Brooklyn found her eyes returning to the ocean.

There was a few minutes of silence between them before Dawson stirred and stood up. "C'mon," he said, offering a hand to help her up. "Let's get you back to the plantation." Brooklyn nodded and took his hand.

Something about that simple gesture of taking his hand meant something. They both knew it, and it hung in the air around them, making it thick and uncomfortable. A part of Brooklyn knew what it meant, and the other just hoped she was right. She bit her lip as Dawson helped her mount Eclipse.

Their ride went in a silence. It wasn't stony or awkward, just silent. Neither of them knew what to say, though both were sharing similar feelings. Brooklyn tried to say something on three or four occasions, but when she found that her voice just wouldn't let her, she remained silent.

They returned back to the plantation around four o'clock.

"Thank you for taking me to the beach, Dawson," Brooklyn was finally able to whisper. Dawson nodded and flashed a small smile. Brooklyn went to turn and walk to her room, but he grabbed her hand and stopped her. She turned around and watched as he gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and could only smile as she turned sharply and walked to her room, an extra spring in her step.

This was it, she had to get over Spot. After all, she had only known him for a month, why did he mean so much to her? She had to do something about it, something that would end her thoughts of Spot, end her feelings for him. And if they did not, well, she had to find something that would help ease the pain long enough for Dawson to cover it.

Brooklyn walked over to her desk and took out a piece of paper and her fountain pen. Dipping it in ink, she brought it to the paper.

She wrote his name all over the page. Spot's name decorated the paper along with hearts and swirls and stars. When she had covered nearly the entire face of the page, she blew on the ink gently. She capped her pen and picked up the paper.

She walked down the hall, down the stairs, down another hall, and through a set of double doors. The library was empty, but a small fire was going in the corner. She walked over to it and kneeled beside the hearth. The fire was nearly gone, but the embers and bits of wood were still red-hot. So, ever-so-gently, she took the paper and placed it on top of the embers.

The paper slowly began to contract, flames sprouting up all around it. Of course her motive was to burn his name. This was her way of burning him, along with unpleasant memories of the past. She was in Georgetown, South Carolina, to start anew. She watched the embers turn to flame as the paper ignited. She watched his name disappear, turning to ash.

She smiled.

**_X_**

**_X_**

**Author's Note:**

**What'd you think? Things are really going to heat up in the next chapter, and that's when the ball starts rolling.**

**Don't worry, we'll be back to New York before long!**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'm sorry it took so long to publish. The name is based on Avril Lavinge's "I'm With You".**

**A big thanks to ilovenewsies, Kathryn Mason-Sykes, Seren McGowan, Jen, elleestJenn, EmeraldGreyClouds, chacotan, IrishStorm, 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0 and Corrupt Me for your wonderful reviews of Chapter 5. Without you, I would be nothing.**

**I hope everyone is having a happy holiday season!**

**xEquestriad**


	7. What Hurts the Most

Only Time Will Tell

****

Chapter Seven: What Hurts the Most

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Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I never will. And I am sad…

****

X

X

****

&Flashback&

__

"Brooklyn, stop," Dawson called after the retreating Brooklyn. She didn't stop, she kept her eyes focused through the night on her balcony stairs. She couldn't believe that Dawson had just tried to…had just tried to

"Go away, Dawson," she snapped, not even glancing back. **Stay focused on the stairs,** she told herself, and she was only ten feet away now.

Dawson caught up with her as they reached the landing of the stairs and took her hand. "Please, wait Brooklyn," he said gently. The mere pleading in his voice stopped her. She turned to him and their eyes met.

"Don't say don't anymore," he told her quietly. "It's been a month. You need to forget that newsie in New York and realize that I'm not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"You don't know that," Brooklyn protested.

"No, I don't," he replied. "But I do know that you've been hurt enough, you don't deserve any more. I will try with everything I've got not to hurt you. You have to start trustin' me." A tear slid down Brooklyn's face and Dawson pulled her into a tight embrace, rubbing her back gently.

"I do trust you," she mumbled as she pressed her forehead against his chest. "It's myself I don't trust." Dawson placed his chin on the top of Brooklyn's head.

"Well, then you have to trust me that I can trust you," Dawson replied. "Therefore, you will eventually have to trust yourself because I trust you." Brooklyn sniffled and Dawson pushed her away and caught her eyes with his gaze. "Please."

This time, Brooklyn let him dip his head down. She didn't flinch away from the feeling of his hot breath so close to her. She let him tilt his head to his right and gently touch his lips to hers. She let herself respond to the gentle motion, slowly sliding her hands up and around his neck. As their kiss deepened, Brooklyn felt as if weights were sliding off of her, as if she could breathe. It felt as if someone had been holding her head under water until nearly all the breath was out of her, and at the last second pulled her back up. Even so, she was the first to pull away.

"I hear voices," she said. "I should go." Dawson nodded, but didn't remove his hands from his waist. Instead, he dipped down and kissed her again.

"That should last the night," he whispered. "And just in case it doesn't…" He dipped down again and kissed her lips for only a moment before pulling away. "Goodnight, Brooklyn. I'll see you tomorrow." Brooklyn nodded and bade him goodnight before quickly moving up the balcony stairs and into her room, where Annie was waiting, her hands perched on her hips and a smirk on her face.

"What in the good Lord's name was tha'?" she asked Brooklyn.

kiss_ her. For no reason in particular at all. They had been just talking, and he had made her laugh. And then all of a sudden he had dipped his head down. She barely moved her own head away in time._****

&End Flashback&

March 15th, 1900

Brooklyn smiled and let a content sigh slip through her lips as the memory ran through her head. It had been about a month since that moment, and since then, she and Dawson had been nearly inseparable. Theodore was happy because Brooklyn was happy, though she and Dawson had to keep their relationship an absolute secret. The hell that would ensue if anyone found out would destroy the family name.

"Ya' look mighty beautiful, Miss," Annie's voice broke her thoughts. Brooklyn glanced in the mirror and smiled.

"Yes," she agreed. "Indeed, I do." She twirled around in the lovely, peach-colored gown. It had a tight, silk bodice and the fabric draped on her shoulders. The sleeves extended to her wrists, where they fanned out like a bell. The skirt of the dress was also made of silk, and it fanned out slightly. Hidden by her dress was the pair of white boots she was wearing. He hair was tossed upon her head in a bunch of curls, and a peach-silk-covered had sat on her locks.

This was her bridesmaid's dress. This was the dress that she was to wear this coming Sunday. She was to be the bridesmaid at her sister's wedding.

The announcement had come only three weeks ago. Even though Brooklyn had protested in going, Theodore coaxed her into it. They were going to disguise Dawson a bit to make him look like he was a part of the upper class. He would be Brooklyn's escort.

"Let's get ya outta it, an' inta somethin' appropriate for travelin'," Annie said after Brooklyn's third spin in front of the mirror. Brooklyn agreed and stripped of the dress.

In it's place was a light blue dress with a white collar and white lace fringing the long sleeves. Coats would be brought by the maids that were traveling with them; Annie and Megan. It was sure to be much, much colder in New York than in South Carolina, even though it was already March.

Brooklyn walked downstairs and met Dawson and Theodore at the landing. They were both wearing suits, though Dawson's was bought second-hand and was slightly big on him. The sight of him made her smile. When she got to the landing he looked around, took her hand and pulled her close. No one was around, so he planted a light kiss on her cheek. She blushed and smiled at him, pecking the hand which she held quickly.

"Are we all ready to go, Brooklyn?" Theodore asked his niece. She nodded. Theodore, Dawson, Annie, Megan and Brooklyn all walked out to the carriage. Brooklyn greeted Adam brightly before stepping in and moving to the seat next to the window. Because of the late hour and the amount of people and luggage, they decided to use their covered carriage.

When they arrived at the train station, Brooklyn was becoming nervous. Everything was becoming very real very slowly. She was going back up to New York, only two months after she had betrayed and ran away from the newsies, her family. She had never received a reply from the Manhatteners, and it upset her. She knew that Jack could read and write, as well as ninety percent of the other newsies at the Lodging House. They were not illiterate morons. The fact that they could have written her a letter, but chose not to, hurt her and scared her.

Hopefully, they would not come into close-contact with the newsies. It was a highly improbable, but completely possible task. But what scared her most was that the train would take them into the Brooklyn borough. The chance of running into Dazzle or Viper or Spot was very real to her. And what unnerved her the most was the possibility of running into Echo. She never really had a problem with Dazzle or Viper, and she could just ignore Spot. But she had a feeling Echo wouldn't pass her silently.

"Don't worry," Dawson whispered to her as he sat next to her. Brooklyn had seen him watching her intently, as if he was watching -waiting- for her to start becoming nervous. "Your uncle knows to keep well away from the newsies. There's nothing to worry about." Brooklyn smiled and nodded.

"I suppose I'm being silly," she replied, leaning her head on him gently, for only a few moments. "I just don't know how seeing them will affect me." Dawson took her hand and squeezed it.

"You'll be fine," he told her. "And you won't be alone. You'll have your Uncle and Megan and Annie, and you'll have me." Brooklyn smiled and brought his hand to her lips for a quick kiss, then squeezed it and returned it to him. Theodore had entered the compartment, and Dawson and Brooklyn could never act as half as affectionate as they did when he wasn't around when he was there watching them.

X

X

Brooklyn slept most of the way up to New York. She had no dreams, which she was grateful for. She did not want to be haunted by images of the newsies before she had to see them in person.

When they reached the train station, Dawson shook her awake gently. "C'mon, Brooklyn," he said gently. She fluttered her eyes open and looked up at him.

"Here already?" she asked him, which caused him to chuckle.

"Here finally," he replied. He took her hand and helped her up. She smiled and thanked him and the two moved up next to Theodore. Dawson had wanted to take the bags, but he was playing the part of a rich heir to a fortune up in Chicago. The bags were left for Annie, Megan and the help from the train to take care of.

It was early in the morning, only around eight-o-clock. They were headed to Brooklyn's Uncle Joseph's mansion near Central Park. With only two days left until the wedding, Brooklyn knew that it was going to be a long day.

&---&

"My beautiful daughter!" Mary-Ann exclaimed as Brooklyn followed Uncle Theodore into the ballroom of the J. Pulitzer Mansion, where the wedding was to be held. Her mother ran up to her and air-kissed both of her cheeks. Brooklyn followed suit, although her stomach was turning over. She smiled as her mother pulled away, her eyes quick to once-over Dawson, who was standing to Brooklyn's right.

"You must be Dawson," she said with an approving tone. Dawson bowed his head respectfully in return. _Oh, if she knew who he really was,_ Brooklyn thought to herself ruefully. "I am thrilled to meet you. My brother-in-law has told me much about you and my daughter."

"As I am you," Dawson replied, nearly stepping out of his Chicago accent. "I have heard many things about you from Brooklyn. And if I am not too bold, your beauty exceeds the description Brooklyn gave me." Brooklyn raised her eyebrows as she watched Dawson, and felt her chest tighten. He was perfect. Mary-Ann blushed and thanked Dawson, then called Cal and Antoinette over from the other side of the room.

"So you're the famous Dawson," Antoinette said a little too sweetly for Brooklyn's liking when she held out her hand to meet him. Dawson, in a very gentlemanly fashion, took her hand and brushed his lips over her gloved knuckles for mere milliseconds. Brooklyn was surprised no one saw the look in Antoinette's eyes. Instinctively, and perhaps with a hint of jealousy, Brooklyn wrapped her right arm around his left. It seemed as if he had taken a cue, and instantly turned his attention to her.

"Is there something wrong, Brooklyn?" he asked her. She met his eyes and saw laughter in them. He was enjoying this. _How is he enjoying this?_ Brooklyn thought bitterly to herself. She wished she could ask him with her eyes. But, knowing she couldn't, she simply smiled and shook her head.

"Nothing in particular, dear," she replied. He smiled nodded, then turned back to Antoinette.

"Congratulations on your wedding," he said, looking to Dawson next. The two men shook hands.

"You better watch that one," he said, acknowledging Brooklyn. "She can be a little…hard to handle sometimes." Mary-Ann, Antoinette and Brooklyn all took a simultaneous sharp intake of breath and glared at Cal. Mary-Ann then suggested that Cal and Antoinette go check the flower arrangements. Taking the hint, Antoinette bustled Cal away.

"That Cal," Mary-Ann said, directing her attention to Dawson. "Always playing games and having a joke around." Dawson just smiled and nodded. He knew the whole story already, and asked no questions.

&---&

The rest of the morning was to be filled with trying on dresses and practicing dances and such. Food samples were tasted and the attending guest list finalized. The sitting place of everyone on the list was decided, and then Brooklyn had to help Mary-Ann and Antoinette choose between two sets of china plates. By noon, Brooklyn was growing tired and irritable.

"Mother," she said quietly, taking her mother aside. "I was wondering if Dawson and I could excuse ourselves for a couple of hours? He is most interested in seeing the city, and we are both rather hungry. Could we possibly take the carriage to a restaurant for lunch?" Mary-Ann looked over to Dawson, who was chatting with Cal, obviously not very interested in the conversation. She looked back to Brooklyn, then to the large grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room.

"Will he be paying?" she asked.

Without thinking, Brooklyn replied, "Of course." Mary-Ann nodded and excused herself, walking over to go talk to Theodore. Brooklyn watched her mother anxiously. She could not make out anything of the conversation by their body language or facial expressions. After five minutes, Brooklyn watched Mary-Ann nod and then she returned to her daughter.

"You may," Mary-Ann said as soon as she was only two steps away from Brooklyn. "But please, do be back by four-o-clock, the minister is going to arrive at four-fifteen and we are going to discuss the whole services."

"Thank you mother," Brooklyn said, smiling brightly at the idea of escaping, if only for a little while.

"You're very welcome."

Brooklyn realized that she would probably wind up paying for lunch, but she certainly didn't mind. She excused Dawson away from Cal, and then the two went to Theodore to tell him where they were off to. When he thought that Brooklyn wasn't looking, he slipped Dawson fifteen dollars. A lot for a lunch, but he probably assumed that would not be their only destination.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Brooklyn looked to Dawson. "Thank goodness we're out of there," she said to him.

"You really don't like your family," Dawson stated, as if he was just realizing what she had been telling him for the past month and a half. Brooklyn's eyes widened and she looked around the street quickly to see if anyone passing by had overheard.

"Dawson!" she chided in a harshly-spoken whisper. "You can't just say something like that out loud!" He looked confused momentarily, and then chuckled.

"Well why not, if it's true?" he asked her.

"Because someone could easily overhear you," Brooklyn responded, her tone softer. She had forgotten that Dawson never had to worry about such things as social standings. "And if someone was to hear you saying that hand spread it around, very bad events would ensue." Dawson shook his head and then ran his fingers through his hair. Brooklyn swore she heard him mumble, "That's bull," under his breath, but she ignored it.

"Good to see you again, Miss. Brooklyn," Rupert said, giving a little wave from the driver's seat.

"As it is you," she replied with a smile. She looked to the horses. "And Kaiser and Prince, also."

"And who is this?"

"This is Dawson Meyer," Brooklyn introduced. Rupert tipped his hat and Dawson nodded in reply.

"Where are you off to, Miss?" Rupert asked her, getting down from his seat and opening the carriage door for her.  
"Prospect Park, please," she replied.

"All the way into Brooklyn?" Rupert asked cautiously. "Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replied, entering the carriage. She knew that Rupert knew, but acted as if she didn't. "And besides, we'll only be staying for a little while." Rupert nodded and then closed the door behind Dawson when he entered.

When the carriage set forth, Dawson wrapped his arms around Brooklyn and she leaned her head on his shoulder. The affection they showed for each other in private would be considered a sin by the upper class if they showed it in public. But they were both still in their teen years, with hormones that they could hardly control rushing through them. And the strength of the bond between them set up in only two months surprised Brooklyn.

"I missed you today," Dawson told her, causing Brooklyn to look up.

"I was with you the whole time," she said. He smiled and kissed her lips gently.

"But not really with me," he told her. "I couldn't talk to you -really talk to you- or anythin'." Brooklyn smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek.

"Perfect," she mumbled. "How could you be so perfect?" He just smiled and kissed her again.

"I'm not perfect," he told her when he drew away.

"You're pretty close," she replied with a small smile, leaning on his shoulder.

"Are you sure about that?" He took his index and middle finger and put them under her chin and turned her head so she was off his shoulder and facing her. He kissed her again, this time deeper, with more fervor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and answered it.

With a sudden thought, she pushed him away. "Windows!" she nearly exclaimed. He removed his hands from his waist and let her pull the cover over the window on her side, while he did the same on his side. When that was done, he took her in his arms again and pressed his lips to hers. She did not refuse, and returned with the same zeal. Even so, her insides were in a battle.

Everything that she had ever been taught told her to stop. Merely two months she had known Dawson, and it took only a month for them to share their first kiss. It took many couples in her class a few months, or even until their marriage to kiss on the lips. The upper-class, high-and-mighty, perfect-daughter side of Brooklyn told her to pull away, slap him and tell Dawson never to even think about kissing her in such a way again.

But then there was her other side. Her sixteen year-old side. The side that wanted to break loose and do whatever she wanted. The secret side that told her to do more than just kiss. The secret side that every girl had, but kept locked within the depths of her heart. The secret that told her to keep kissing him, to kiss him for as long as she could. The secret side that was winning.

Dawson's lips traced away from her lips and down her jaw bone and up to her ear. "A perfect guy wouldn't be doin' this," he whispered, and leaned into her. He was right. The "perfect man" of society wouldn't even be sitting next to her in the carriage. He would be on the opposite side, and they would presently be discussing the weather or the details of the wedding. The "perfect man" of society would not be leaning into her (practically on top of her), kissing her with the hunger of a teenaged boy with his first love.

"Kiss gently," she told him, but she knew she didn't have to. He was being careful, precise with his kisses, so that he would not leave any marks upon her jaw.

"We…have…stop…" he mumbled as his lips found her way back to hers.

"I know we have to," she whispered in reply, capturing his lips with hers.

"No," he mumbled, pulling away for a moment to catch a breath before finding her lips again. He pulled away once more. "We've stopped."

"_Oh_!," Brooklyn nearly exclaimed, catching one more kiss before pushing him to the other side of the carriage. She fixed her hair quickly and pulled the covers off the windows so when Rupert came to open the door he would not become suspicious.

"Fix your shirt," she told him quickly. He looked down to find his jacket slightly askew. He fixed it quickly and smirked as Rupert opened the door. He helped Brooklyn out of the carriage and then closed the door behind Dawson. Brooklyn was shocked by the chilled air, as she was beginning to feel rather tepid inside the carriage.

"We'll be back in half an hour, Rupert," Brooklyn told the cabby. "And then we'll be heading back to Manhattan for lunch." The cabby nodded and the two entered the park.

"So why are we here?" Dawson asked her as they walked along the dirt path.

"I just thought you would enjoy the scenery," Brooklyn replied. Dawson leaned down next to her, and his whisper was hardly audible.

"The scenery in the carriage was just fine."

Brooklyn blushed and wrapped her arm around his, keeping her eyes straight ahead of her. She wished she had brought the dogs, but her uncle had insisted that Bear and Rose were to stay behind in South Carolina with the maids to look after them. They would have been a good distraction from his comment, from the urge to kiss him.

They were extremely careful on their walk. Anytime they saw a newsie selling, they got out of the way as fast as they could without being conspicuous about it.

"Lady!" a familiar squeak of a voice caused Brooklyn to stop in her tracks and turn around. Others who had been strolling the park turned to watch a young newsie near-sprinting toward Brooklyn and Dawson.

"Oh no," Brooklyn mumbled. She looked to Dawson, who was looking to her with uncertainty.

The young newsboy ran right up to Brooklyn and stared up at her, a big smile on his face. _Please don't let there be any other newsies around_, her thoughts screamed.

"Hey, Lady!" he said brightly, and Brooklyn could do nothing but smile and pretend that no one was there. She lowered herself to almost his level.

"Hey there, Germ," she said with a smile.

"Weah'd ya go, Lady?" he asked her, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, Germ?"

"Well, you said dat yous was gonna be livin-" Brooklyn cut him off.

"_Oh_," she said. "Yes. Well, Spot and I had a big fight and we don't like each other anymore. I live down in South Carolina, now."

"Wheah's dat?"

"Down south, Germ."

"Why'd ya move?"

"Because I did, Germ," she replied, and searched her mind for a way to change the subject. "How have you been?"

"Good!" he replied. "The odda day I sold one hundred papes, Lady!"

"That's great, Germ!" Brooklyn replied enthusiastically. It did make her happy, to know that the young boy was doing so well. "Can I have one?" She took a penny from her purse and held it out to him. He took it and gave her a paper.

"Thanks, Lady," he replied, looking at the shiny penny before shoving it in his pocket.

"Germ, my name's Broo-"

"Yo, Goim!" a loud, rough voice filled the air. The little boy immediately turned around, and Brooklyn followed the sound with her eyes. Standing only twenty or so yards away was Axel. He and Brooklyn made eye contact, and she froze. She immediately dropped her eyes to the ground, and only heard Axel's voice. "Get ovah heah, now," he told the child.

Quickly, Germ turned back to Brooklyn. "Bye, Bru!" he said, misinterpreting her name for the little bit that she had gotten out before Axel cut her off. He gave her a quick hug and then ran over to Axel. Brooklyn, in turn, stood up quickly and turned, wrapping her arm around Dawson's and beginning to pull him in the opposite direction.

"I think it's time to go," she said quickly. She looked to Dawson to see him smiling and chuckling.

"Should I be jealous of that 'Germ'?" he asked her. She glared at him.

"I'm glad you think that this is so funny!" she exclaimed. "Axel is one of _that newsie's _scouts. Now he'll know I'm here and-"

"Why do you care if he knows?" Dawson asked suddenly, with a tone that Brooklyn didn't recognize. "It's time that you left that bozo in the past and kept him there. You're not a piece of his property, and you never were or will be."

"I wish it was that simple, Dawson," Brooklyn mumbled. The carriage was in sight.

"Why isn't it? It's not a hard situation," he said, lowering his voice. "It's only hard because you're makin' it hard." Brooklyn didn't have a response to that, because she knew Dawson was right. It was all her fault that she had gotten worked up about Spot. She hadn't thought about him in the past two months, and because of one incident, she was ready to let him ruin her life again, she shook her head and remained silent until they reached the carriage.

"Runyouns," she told Rupert the name of the restaraunt as he helped her into the carriage. Dawson sat on the opposite side, watching her intently. When then doors shut and the carriage started moving, he covered the windows. She hadn't noticed before, but it was completely pitch-black without the light coming it.

"He really did a number on ya, huh?" Dawson asked, and she felt him sidle up next to her.

"Yup," Brooklyn replied. Dawson found her hand and squeezed it gently. "But you made him go away," she continued. "You made him disappear." The darkness was intimidating, so she pulled up the covers only an inch or so, to let some afternoon light flood in.

"I did?" Dawson questioned.

"Yes."

Dawson's lips found hers, and they exchanged a quick peck. Brooklyn's body told her to kiss him again, but her mind told her not to. The internal conflict began again, and she found herself just sitting there, looking at him in the darkness. She couldn't decide what she wanted, so she left it up to him. He kissed her again, but it was still light and testing.

"Did you forget?" he asked her.

"Who?"

He kissed her once more, still very lightly, but she could feel the smile in his lips. She wanted more, but restrained herself. If this was the way her body was going to react to his kisses, she needed to learn how to control and handle it. She had to, and she believed she had the ability to. It shouldn't be that hard, it was just mind over matter.

So she pulled away from him, pulled the covers off the windows and kissed him on the cheek very briefly. He smiled at her, regardless, and returned the kiss on the cheek.

"Perfect," she murmured, wondering if he had heard it or not.

&---&

Dawson loved city life, which ultimately surprised Brooklyn. She thought he would compare everything to country life and complain about the noise or bustle of people or lack of space. But instead, he seemed completely intrigued. He pointed things out and asked a lot of questions about this thing or the other.

And from that day on, all he wanted to do was explore the city, learn and see new things. But most of all, he questioned Brooklyn constantly about the life of a New York City newsie. She told him that she would explain on the train back home or back in Georgetown. But he persisted, and she became more and more frustrated, each time refusing to tell him while they were in New York. When he asked her why, she just told him that she didn't want to be overheard.

That was true, to a point. There was more to her reasoning. She believed that if she was to talk about the newsies and the life she had (even though it was only for a short time), she might drive herself crazy. She was very aware that if she began to relive her moments and bring up the memories -good and bad- that she would be overcome with homesickness. And she knew that if she was in New York when this homesickness surfaced, she knew she would do something stupid. She didn't want to do anything like run away and try and rejoin them or try and make friends with them again when she knew they were not on good terms.

And so, she remained silent.

&---&

Four days later, Uncle Theodore, Brooklyn, Dawson, Annie and Megan were once again heading to the train yard. They would be leaving out of Manhattan this time, and would transfer when they reached Maryland.

"I'll go get a hand to help us with the bags," Theodore said as they reached the front of the station. "Wait here." Brooklyn, with her arm around Dawson's, looked around, searching for any familiar faces. She was hoping she wouldn't see any, as she didn't want to cause any trouble.

"Nude body found in a alleyway in da Lowa East Side!" she head him before she saw him.

"Race?" she mumbled to herself, looking around. And sure enough, there was the short, easily-recognizable Italian newsie, hawking out the headline. He was walking backwards, waving his paper in the air. Brooklyn looked away and hoped she wouldn't be recognized.

And still, by a twisted plan of Fate, Racetrack wound up tripping and bumping into Brooklyn. He turned around immediately and began to apologize: "Scuse me dere, Miss, I-" He stopped when he realized who it was.

"Heya dere, Rook," he said, a nasty edge sharpening his tone. Dawson stiffened beside her, and Brooklyn placed her foot on his, trying to tell him not to react. "Whatcha doin' round these pahts? I thought chyou split months ago." He looked to Dawson and smirked. "Dis yoah guy? Boy, he looks awful familya, but I just can't place da name. Any ideas?" Race didn't give her time to reply, he just turned on his heel and began to walk off in the direction that he came. Brooklyn wanted to react, but at that same time, Theodore returned, two train attendants at his side.

"Thanks for not saying anything," Brooklyn whispered to Dawson as they boarded. He only nodded, and he had hardly relaxed his stance. "I deserved it, so forget it and relax, okay?" She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek gently. "I'll explain soon, don't worry."

"After that whole thing before," Dawson said once they entered their compartment. "You gotta tell me."

"No, I don't," Brooklyn replied, her eyes trained on the city buildings she could see out the window. A large part of her didn't want to leave the city. A part of her wanted to stay, to reconcile with the Manhattan newsies and see them as much as she could without being conspicuous. But the other part of her wanted to get out and stay out, forget all of the newsies, forget her life. She had her uncle, the plantation and Dawson now, and she figured that she didn't need any of that.

And then, for one part of herself, there was a teeny-tiny light at the end of the tunnel; she wasn't going to be staying in Georgetown forever. She was only supposed to be staying there until the newsies calmed down. And before they had left for the train station, Mary-Ann had said to Brooklyn: "Hopefully I will see you again when the seasons changed". She didn't know what seasons she was talking about, but it was very possible and most probable that she was talking about summer. That would be only three months away.

_How could I do that?_ she thought to herself, and the train lurched forward. _Leave Uncle Theodore, Annie, the plantation…how will I be able to leave Dawson? Does she expect me to? Do I want to? Am I willing to?_

Thoughts rushed through her head as the city disappeared. She blinked and a tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. She felt Dawson's hand upon her cheek, wiping it away with his thumb. She moved her eyes to Uncle Theodore, who was fully engulfed in the morning edition of The World.

"I'll tell you when we get back to Georgetown, okay?" she whispered to Dawson. He nodded and wiped another escaped tear from her cheek. She smiled meekly and looked back to window, watching the world fly by.

&---&

Dawson held Brooklyn to her word when they returned to Georgetown. The next morning, they went out on a trail ride to the beach. They sat in the same spot they had two months ago, and Brooklyn told her story.

She told him of how they would wake up hungry and walk out to the carriage and get stale bread and water. She explained the whole system of the different editions of papers; morning, afternoon and evening. She explained what selling points were and how they had to work and con and sometimes completely lie to sell their papers. She explained how sometimes there were days where they didn't eat. And most importantly, she explained the different boroughs and sections of the New York newsies.

She told him everything that she had experienced and learned. And while she told him, her stomach began to churn and her head begin to throb. She answered every single one of his questions to the best of her ability.

She noticed how interested Dawson had become, and how completely enthralled he seemed at the idea of being a newsie and living in the city and working the streets for a living. But she thought not much of it, because of a part of her felt that same emotion.

"Well," Brooklyn said as they rode back to the stables. "I guess that's it."

"Do you miss it?" Dawson asked her as they dismounted their horses.

"Sometimes," Brooklyn admitted. "But then I think of the life I have now, and I don't feel so bad. Besides, I know that the chance of me ever living that life is again is about a million to point-zero-seven. I don't get my hopes up."

Dawson said nothing.

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**Author's Note:**** Ooooh…dun dun duuuuuh!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm sorry that it took so long to produce!**

**A big thanks to **Forgotten-Lullaby**, **EmeraldGreyClouds**, **Corrupt Me**, **NeverBeTamed**,** Spitfire42**, **elleestJenn**,** wacky dreams,Seren McGowan**,** IrishStorm**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** ilovenewsies**,** newsiesfreak11d9**,** **and **Kathryn Mason-Sykes **for your wonderful reviews of chapter six. I love you all, because without you, this fic would not be what it is!**

**And like I said, I'll try and keep to updating every 1-2 weeks, so hopefully Chapter 8 will be out soon!**

**Please tell me if you liked this chapter, and nicely critique if you didn't!**

**Oh, and the name of the chapter is the name of Rascal Flatts' song. It helped me with inspiration for this chapter, and his highly recommended.**

**Much Love,  
Equestriad**


	8. What About Now? Part I

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Eight: What About Now? Part I

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Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and the plot, that's it.

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"Oh no," Brooklyn gasped. The piece of paper she held in her hands began to shake violently. She placed it carefully on the bedside table where she had found it and struggled to hold back tears. She put a hand on her forehead, using the other to keep her steady by balancing on the small table. Her eyes closed, and she stood there in frantic thought.

Her eyelids snapped open and she broke away from the bedside table. She still had time.

Out her bedroom door and down the hall, she flew as fast as her Edwardian Corset would allow her to. She did not pause when someone questioned her actions. She did not explain herself to Annie, who attempted to run beside her to ask her: "Wha' in the name of our good Savior are ya doin'?"

Down the stairs, through the foyer and out the front door she went. She stood on the porch to get a look around. As soon as she saw Adam driving the carriage up, she hailed him over.

"Good morn, Miss. Brooklyn," he said brightly. "Ya sure look ina' tizzy. Wha' can I do fer ya this mornin'?"

"You can bring me to the train station as fast as you can," she replied, stepping into the carriage and sitting down. She was panting like an out-of-breath dog, and she placed her hand to her chest. Because of her corset, pain was splitting through her.

"Plannin' on goin' ana'where?" he asked her, gathering the reins and jiggling them just so they danced upon the horses' backs. They lurched forward into a quick, slightly uneven walk.

"No, trying to stop someone who is," she replied.

"Dawson?"

"Yes."

"Miss, if it ain't to bold a' me ta-"

"Excuse my shortness, Adam," Brooklyn snapped. "But I believe anything said at this moment will be too bold."

"Sorry, Miss."

"You're forgiven, just get me to the train station."

"Yes, Miss."

Brooklyn watched the country side go by, but didn't really see it. Her mind was turmoil, abuzz with "how could he'?"s and "why did he he?"s and other questions.

She wished she had a watch or a clock or something that told the time with her. When she had left, it had been about ten o'clock. In letter, he said he had an eleven o'clock train. She hoped she would make it in time. She hoped she would be able to stop him.

Why would he do this to her? He promised.

She thought back to the letter he had left on her bedside table. She hadn't seen it until she was fully dressed, and when she had finally read it, she almost fainted. She hoped she would make it in time, and she hoped that they wouldn't be saying goodbye today.

He told her that he would understand if she didn't come to see him off, but how could he expect her not to attempt to bring him back, to make him stay?

When they reached the train station, Brooklyn didn't wait for Adam to help her out of the carriage. She got out herself and walked as quickly as she could into the station and over to the proper tracks. When she saw him, her heart threw itself against her chest.

"Dawson!" she called out. He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled. He jogged over to her and took her into his arms.

"I knew you would come," he said, hugging her. She didn't hug back, she just stood there like a doll. He pushed himself away and caught her eyes. "Brooklyn?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him. Her voice caught, and she felt tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Why are you leaving?" Dawson cupped her face in his hands gently.

"Brooklyn, I gotta do this," he said. "The life you described, the life I saw was…"

"Was not meant for you!" Brooklyn finished his trailed-off sentence. "You have the plantation, a place to work and stay and make a steady pay. You have me!" Dawson bent his head down and kissed her lips. She kissed back, hoping to convince him to stay.

"Yes, I have you," he said, "And I hope I will still have you when I return."

"Return?" Brooklyn asked. "What do you mean 'return'? Do you think my uncle will just welcome you back with open arms after you left him like this? What has gotten into you, Dawson?"

"I plan on returning," Dawson said. "And I will work things out with your uncle." He moved his hands to her waist and pulled her close. "That is, if you're not already in New York."

"And when I'm in New York, do you think I'll be able to talk to you?" Brooklyn asked him. "Do you think I'll be able to be with you? If you think so, you're wrong. My mother hated it when I was friends with newsies, and to see that you really aren't an heir to some fortune in Chicago, do you think she'll remain quiet? No. She'll start a riot, call the police, do anything to prevent us from being within a block of each other. Dawson, did you think this through?"

"We'll find a way, some way," Dawson replied. "I've had a month to think this through, and Brooklyn, you have to trust me."

"How can I trust you?" she asked coldly. "You promised me that you'd do everything you could not to hurt me. How do you think I feel right about now?"

"Hurt," Dawson mumbled quietly.

"Yes, very!" Brooklyn exclaimed.

"Please, Brooklyn," Dawson said in a quiet, strained tone. "I need this."

"No, you don't," she protested.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "Please, let me do this. I promise, I'll come back for you. I love you, Brooklyn Pulitzer. I could never leave you. And if you love me too, understand that I need you to let me do this. Please." Brooklyn met his eyes and saw the pleading within their depths. She reached up and kissed him gently.

"Go to Manhattan, they'll be the most accepting," she said. Dawson smiled and kissed her deeply. When he pulled away, Brooklyn continued as if there was never a break in the sentences. "And if Racetrack recognizes you, convince him otherwise, please. Don't let them know that you know me. Don't say anything about me, please. If I ever get the chance to reconcile with them, I have to do it, okay?"

"I won't say a word," Dawson promised.

"Thank you," Brooklyn replied. She glanced down at the floor and bit her lip before looking back at Dawson. "Now, can I something of you?"

"Anything," Dawson replied.

"Wait for me?" she asked. "I know that the city and the newsies are filled with beautiful girls, but please, wait for me. We'll make this work."

"I will wait for you, only if you wait for me," Dawson replied, a smile on his lips.

"I promise to wait for you until you ask me not to," she replied.

"Then I will wait for you, until you ask me not to and then some," he told her. The train rumbled onto the tracks, and the two were staring into each others' eyes. Tears were falling down Brooklyn's cheeks, and Dawson tried his best to sweep them away with his thumbs.

The conductor called for all the boarding passengers to board as quickly as they could. Dawson bent down and pulled Brooklyn into a deep, passionate kiss. At that moment, there was a mutual agreement that neither of them cared that they were in public. They only cared about each other, and rumors could be easily ignored or stopped later.

"Goodbye," Brooklyn said when they broke apart, locking her eyes with Dawson's.

"I love you," he said quietly, kissing her.

"I love you, too," she replied.

They kissed one last time before Dawson boarded the train. Tears fell freely from Brooklyn's eyes, and she fought herself not to break down and sob. Her vision was becoming a bit blurry, but she saw that Dawson had gotten himself a window seat to wave to her from. The two just stared at each other, trying to convey all their emotions through their eyes. As the train lurched forward, Brooklyn waved to him for as long as she could.

And then, he was gone.

**__**

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**Author's Note:** **Oh dayum! **

**Sorry guys, but for now, that's all your getting. Don't worry, chapter nine will be out as soon as I can make my fingers type, I promise.**

**A big thanks to **NeverBeTamed**,** Corrupt Me**, **IrishStorm**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** ilovenewsies**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** **and** Seren McGowan **for your AMAZING reviews of chapter seven.**

**This chapter is based on the first 4 verses of "What About Now" by Chris Daughtry.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you did, and critique **nicely** on what I can change/fix if you didn't!**

**Happy New Years, everyone!**

**xEquestriad**


	9. What About Now? Part II

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Nine: What About Now? Part II

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Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I own my characters and the plot.

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It had been two months since Dawson left, and things had not improved for Brooklyn.

Presently she walked around the plantation aimlessly, staring down the long hallways, pausing at windows for minutes upon minutes. Just stared. Her face was stone, no emotion reached through. If you looked in her eyes, all you would see is a slate of green. No real color, no depth, no emotion. A slate, a wall of green.

She was a ghostly pale, as of late. So pale, that her uncle said the moon would fall in jealousy if it ever saw her skin. Her freckles had faded, and her skin looked clear, nearly transparent. Tear stains were a permanent facial feature, and if she had to make a public appearance, had to be covered with heaps of makeup. But even then, others noticed. Obviously, she was not herself.

After Dawson left, she retreated into her room and stayed there for roughly a week. She had no will or need to do anything else. She felt bad for her poor dogs. They would play in her room, but it wasn't the same as going out in the fields or being near the horses. Theodore even had to get someone to ride Eclipse every day, for Brooklyn would not take a step toward the stable. It was as if she had shut down, with good reason.

It was the middle of the following week of Dawson's departure when Annie had fell sick. She had been complaining of an occasional stomach ache or headache, but she didn't take it seriously, so neither did Theodore or Brooklyn. She began coughing harshly and walking up a flight of stairs or down the hall was a chore for her. Theodore ordered her to bed rest, but the sickness only progressed and she began vomiting at least five times a day. Theodore called the doctor, who gave Annie some medicine and said that she would return to normal in a few days.

Annie's health did not improve, and she died a week a later.

Brooklyn became distraught, and remained in her bedroom, not coming out except for bathroom needs. Annie had become a friend, a very close friend, and she had died. Brooklyn was beginning to question the motives of God.

But over the month of May, she had mourned the loss of her friend and began to return to her normal routines. She would be out and about, never without Bear and Rose. And she never stepped foot near the stable. Did she feel bad that she was neglecting Eclipse? Yes, very. But she just couldn't bring herself to be around, none-the-less mount an animal that feeds off your emotions when she was a wreck,

And then it happened.

The week previous to the present, a knock had come to the front door. Being the closest to it, Brooklyn answered it. She saw a small, ginger-colored figure and blood. Lots of blood. She remembered screaming and hitting the floor.

When Brooklyn awoke, her uncle tried to calmly explain to her what had happened. Somehow, Rose had gotten out and must have followed a scent or an animal into the woods and somehow got lost. Some fox hunters -who were illegally on the Rutger property- had seen her. Thinking that she was a fox, they took aim and fired. When they discovered that she was a dog with a collar and a tag bearing the Pulitzer name, they found the plantation and brought her back.

"Where would you like to bury her?" was the first thing Theodore had asked her.

They wound up burying her in a flower garden near the stable. Rose loved this garden, and would often go to lay in the cool, moist earth with the budding flowers. Rose was buried under her favorite patch of sunflowers.

After it had been done, Brooklyn retreated to the house and didn't come out.

For a month and a half now, she wore black. First for Annie, and now for her little Rose. She would slip in and out of shadows, pausing occasionally and briefly to stare out the windows. She wanted to see the outside world, but did not want the outside world to see her.

And it hadn't stopped with the death of a dear friend and the murder of her little dog. Just two days earlier, Brooklyn had received a letter from her mother. Mary-Ann was sending for her. She requested: "…my dear daughter, that you return home on June the twenty-fifth."

The twenty-fifth was four days away. In four days, Brooklyn would return to New York City. She would return to Brooklyn, she would return to her cage. She would return without a word from Dawson, or any time to warn him.

She understood why Dawson hadn't been able to write. When the newsies had free time, it wasn't used to write letters or sit around. It was time to eat or sharpen fighting skills or discuss new ways of making money. And now that there was a war raging on the streets, they probably had even less time on their hands. But still, she had hoped for some word.

"Theodore, you have no idea what you are doing!" the sharp, threatening voice broke Brooklyn's silent thought, causing her to startle and give a small yelp. She followed the sound with her eyes. At the end of the hall, in the foyer standing by the door, was her uncle and Walter Smith. Both men stood rigid, their eyes locked on one another. Brooklyn quickly moved Bear against the wall and hid herself behind a protrusion in the wall.

"Oh believe me Walter, I do," Theodore snapped in reply.

"There will be consequences for this, Theodore," Walter replied.

"How dare you threaten me in my own home!" Theodore yelled, surprising Brooklyn. Usually her uncle was an even-tempered, patient man. But Walter had obviously wound him the wrong way, and Brooklyn didn't know what to think of it.

"Take it as a warning," Walter snarled in reply. "You have until ten o'clock tomorrow morning, or things will happen." Brooklyn covered her mouth to silence a gasp. What 'things' was he talking about? _Why is he threatening Uncle Theodore?_ she wondered to herself.

"Get out," Theodore growled.

"Ten o' clock tomorrow," Walter reminded nastily.

"Don't hold your breath," Theodore replied, the same edge of nastiness edging his tone.

"You're making a big mistake!" Walter called as he walked out the door.

The door slammed shut, and Brooklyn quickly snuck back down the hallway and back up to her room. Her mind was spinning. She had known that there was something wrong with Walter, but she never knew that he was dangerous. Why was he threatening Theodore? Were the threats serious or minor? What did he mean by "You're making a big mistake" and "things will happen"?

A knock came to the door and Brooklyn silently made her way over to her bed, put the covers over her legs and had Bear hop up onto the bed. She took The Wizard of Oz off her bedside table and opened to a random page. The knocks at the door came again, and Brooklyn put on the calmest town she could muster.

"Yes?"

"It's Uncle Theodore, may I come in?"

"Oh yes, Uncle," she replied. "Come in, come in!"

Theodore opened the door and looked to find Brooklyn. When he met her eyes, he got this look on his face that he usually did. To Brooklyn, it looked like he wanted to say something, but knew that he shouldn't. It reminded her of a helpless animal, not sure of what to do for a wounded member of the family. Brooklyn wished that she didn't have to see this face on her uncle, but in her state of mind, she could do nothing about it.

"Hello dear, how are you feeling?" he asked her, walking over and sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Tired," Brooklyn replied truthfully. "Drained." Theodore nodded and distracted himself from having to answer by scratching Bear behind the ears.

"Is there a reason that you're here, Uncle?" Brooklyn asked after two minutes of silence between them. A grim, serious expression fell over her uncle's face, and he looked to her and nodded. There was a look of panic, of fear in his eyes. This frightened Brooklyn, and sent her pulse off.

There were a few more moments of silence before Theodore spoke up. During those few moments, he looked as if he was trying to gather and arrange his thoughts, as if he didn't know how to phrase or present them. And when he finally did speak, he questioned her.

"Have you ever heard of the Ku Klux Klan, Brooklyn?" he asked her. Brooklyn's eyebrows raised, but she nodded, ignoring her surprise at the question. "Do you know what they are?"

"An organization of white men against Negros, right?" Brooklyn replied a bit uncertainly. She had heard of them, but not much.

"Yes, in simple terms, dear," Theodore replied with a nod of his head. "Tell me, did you hear yelling before?"

"Yes, I was wondering what that was," Brooklyn said, only lying a little bit.

"Well, I'm going to tell you this straight, Brooklyn," Theodore said. "I made a bad decision in their eyes, and now I've got them on my back, and I don't know what's going to happen."

"What do you mean?" Brooklyn asked, cocking her head to the side like a confused puppy.

"I mean that we're in danger," he replied. "And that if anything was to happen to you on my account, I wouldn't know what I would do…"

"Uncle, I don't understand, why am I in danger?"

"Because I am in danger, and whatever they threaten me with, they won't be left dry." Theodore rubbed the back of his neck and looked out to the balcony briefly before turning back to his niece.

"There is something you need to promise me, Brooklyn," he said.

"Anything, Uncle," she replied.

"You need to promise me that if anything happens that is a threat to your life, you will leave," he said. "I know you are to leave in four days, but there is a very realistic probability that something will happen before then. You need to promise me that if anything is to happen, you will run to the train station and take the first train to New York, do you understand me?"

"What about the police?" Brooklyn asked. "Why don't you tell them?"

"Some things down here can't be left to the police," he replied. "There will always be a horse ready for you to ride into town. If anything happens, I want you to grab your dog and run down to the stable. There will always be a saddlebag with money, a change of clothes and food in the saddle bag, just in case. You have to promise me that you will leave me here to deal with things, and I will catch up with you. Do you promise?"

"Uncle, I-"

"Do you promise?" he asked, his voice straining.

"I promise."

"Good, I will set up the preparations tonight, and from now until Friday when you leave, you have to be ready for anything."

"Uncle, I'm frightened," Brooklyn told him truthfully. She could feel hot tears of fear burning her eyes. She was always crying nowadays, but this was different.

Theodore turned before he left the room. Just before he closed the door behind him, he looked her straight in the eye, holding it for a few moments.

"You should be," he whispered.

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Author's Note:

What a cliffy, huh? I'm sorry that I gave you two short chapters in a row, the next chapter will be longer, I promise.

The title of the chapter is Daughtry's "What About Now", and this chapter was inspired by the last four verses of this song, which is highly recommended to all of you.

Thank you to

ilovenewsies**,** Corrupt Me**,** elleestJenn**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**, **Seren McGowan**,** **and** IrishStorm

** for your fabulous reviews of Chapter Eight.**


	10. Shadowland

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Ten: Shadowland

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Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Newsies.

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"Brooklyn," a voice cut into Brooklyn's dreams like a knife. But she didn't want to be woken up, it was much too early for that and she was still much too tired. "Brooklyn, you must wake up now!" And then she recognized the voice and she sat straight up in her bed. Her eyes met Theodore's, and instantly she knew that this was it.

She threw back her covers and immediately asked, "What's happening?"

"Never mind that now," her uncle told her, hastily rushing around the room. "You need to get out of here." He fished into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. He thrust it at her, and she took it and put it in a satchel she had put around her waist.

"Uncle…" Brooklyn trailed as they went toward the balcony.

"There's no time for that now, my dear niece," Theodore replied. "Put on your cloak when you get to the stables. No one can recognize you."

"Why not?" Brooklyn questioned.

"You'll understand soon enough," Theodore replied. "Now please, go. Ride out the back and onto the road. Go straight into town and call for help, but do not stop. Get on the next train to New York and I will meet you there."

"Promise?" Brooklyn asked cautiously.

"I can't do that, Brooklyn," he replied, causing her to gasp.

"Uncle!"

A crash was heard downstairs, and her uncle pushed her down the first step of the balcony. "You have to go, _now_!" They hugged briefly before Brooklyn started down the stairs. "Give my regards to Dawson, for me." Brooklyn turned around to ask him what he meant, but he had already disappeared into the room.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she nearly ran down the stairs. It was much easier to run in what she was wearing. So that no one would recognize her, she wore a plain, dark blue skirt and a white blouse, the sleeves reaching her wrists and the hem tightening around them. Her corset was tied loosely, for she had been sleeping in these clothes the past two nights.

When she made it to the stables, Eclipse was tacked and ready, Bear waiting with the stable hand. Brooklyn threw on her cloak and pulled the hood over her head. Rarely used, were cloaks nowadays, and Theodore had to pull this one out of the attic. It was black, and she and Eclipse would blend perfectly in the darkness.

The stable hand helped Brooklyn mount and get situated in the saddle. For a safer gallop, they had traded the side-saddle for a regular western saddle. It was an awkward position, but Brooklyn felt much safer with the large horn for her to hold.

After she was situated, the stable hand picked up the six month old Bear and handed her to Brooklyn. She put the dog in front of her, two legs over each side. They had four leashes on her that Brooklyn wrapped around her waist. One was around her neck, the other around her back lower abdomen. This was to ensure that she stayed in the saddle at a full gallop, and was tightly tied to Brooklyn's waist and the horn of the saddle.

Bear had grown immensely. She was big, muscular and furry. At about six and a half or seven months old, she weighed about sixty-five pounds. She was really living up to her name. She had grown into a gorgeous young lady, and the veterinarian estimated she would be over one-hundred pounds at full grown. Brooklyn felt bad for poor Eclipse, having all that weight at the base of his neck. She also felt bad for Bear. At the beginning of the week she had gotten her stitches out of her stomach from being spayed. But unfortunately, there was no time to think about that.

"Thank you, Harry," Brooklyn said quickly. She checked that she had her satchel and the saddle bag. With a last nod to Harry, she secured the hood of her cloak over her own head. She was lucky that Bear's coat was a mix of dark brown and black hair, excellent coverage. She gathered the reins in one hand, the other on Bear. Clicking her tongue, she kicked Eclipse into an immediate canter, and moved her into a gallop as soon as they reached the woods.

She followed the trail that her uncle had marked with pieces of white fabric. In the full-moonlight, they were easily visible and Brooklyn was out of the woods and onto the road in no time. Bear was not enjoying the ride, and was whining and shaking the whole way. Brooklyn tried to console her puppy, but in no way could find a way to console herself.

When they were on the road, Brooklyn slowed Eclipse to was walked and turned the horse around. What she saw pulled a scream from her lips. She saw the plantation, fully engulfed in flames. At the base of the house, around burning crosses, were what appeared to be ghosts. Men dressed all in white, holding torches and waving them about.

"Uncle!" she cried, and Eclipse sidestepped. Regaining her head and forcing herself to remember what her Uncle had said, she turned the Arabian gelding and kicked him into a gallop again. Tears were welling in her eyes, and she prayed that her uncle was all right. "Oh God, please save my Uncle," she murmured to herself as she galloped.

The country-side passed as a blur, and Brooklyn was only mildly aware when she reached Georgetown. But when she did, she began to raise hell with her voice. "Fire at the Rutger Plantation!" she screamed, causing both Bear and Eclipse to start. She ignored the both of them and repeated her cry over and over again.

Two blocks away from the train station, Brooklyn slowed Eclipse to a walk and began pulling off the straps that attached Bear to her and the saddle. When she was done, she sat there momentarily in thought. How was she to get her large pup down?

"Need help dere, Miss?" the voice caused her to utter a yelp, and she looked toward where she had heard it. Patrick, the newsboy she had met months ago, sauntered out from behind the building. He tipped his cap and Brooklyn welcomed the help.

"Can you just take my dog down from the saddle, please?" she asked him. He obliged and helped her get Bear down, commenting on her large size. "Thank you," Brooklyn said, dismounting herself. She pulled the saddlebag off Wish and tossed it to the side. She pulled the saddle off and tossed it next to the bag. She turned her horse around, back from where they came from and removed his bridle.

"Go!" she exclaimed, and then smacked Eclipse in the rear. The startled gelding threw his head up high and bolted down the street, his tail waving high behind him like a banner. She looked back to Patrick, who had raised an eyebrow. He handed Bear's leash to her, watching her carefully.

"Wheah you headin'?" he asked her in his New York-ish accent.

"Manhattan," she replied.

"Takin da train?"

"Yes."

"You're in luck," he replied, flashing a smile. "I's headin' ta Brooklyn, an' it looks ta me like yous need a escort." Brooklyn hesitated, but nodded.

"Yoah da Pulitza goil, right?" he asked her. "Da goil dat asked us bout Spot a few months back?" Brooklyn nodded as she picked up the saddle bag and slung it over her right arm, leading Wish in her left.

"Yes, I'm the Pulitzer girl," she replied.

"Runnin' away?"

"Not exactly," she replied carefully. Patrick didn't ask any questions. The two walked silently to the train station and up to the ticket holder.

"When's the next train to New York?" Brooklyn asked. The hood still shadowed most of her face, and she hit the saddlebag underneath her cloak.

"We've got the last one leavin' in bout two minutes or so," the clerk replied lazily.

"Are there any more tickets available?" she asked, her words quickening.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. "But they're in the back cars."

"Any car is fine," she replied hastily. She fished into her satchel and pulled out ten dollars. "Two tickets, please." The clerk made out two tickets, and she slapped the money down on the table.

"You're going to have to switch in Virginia," the clerk replied, handing them four tickets. "Those are the tickets for that right there. You better hurry on, now." Brooklyn nodded and she and Patrick made their way to the platform and showed the conductor their tickets. He led them to a car way in the back. Seats lined the rows, instead of compartments.

"No dogs allowed, Miss," he told her, looking at Wish. Brooklyn pulled ten more dollars from her satchel, handed it to him and then entered the car. He said nothing else.

"You don't have to sit with me," Brooklyn said as she sat down next to the window, sliding the saddlebag under her seat and having Wish hop up next to her. Patrick, however, sat down next to wish with a smile on his face.

"I know," he replied. "But I don't got no one else ta sit wit, sos I guess I'd ratha sit next ta yous." Brooklyn wanted to smile and thank him, but she couldn't. She was too worried for her Uncle to smile or be happy. The train lurched forward into the night, and Brooklyn realized they had a long journey ahead of them.

&--&--&

"Patrick," Brooklyn said gently as she stood up. "Patrick!" She shook the newsboy's shoulder gently. He awoke with a startled snort and looked around.

"Wha…?" he drawled.

"It's time to change trains," she told him. "And we haven't much time." The newsie opened one eye, and once he saw she was serious, got up and let Brooklyn lead the way.

It took them a few minutes to get to the train, and Patrick had stopped to pick up a newspaper. Before they boarded the train, Patrick stopped Brooklyn and smirked. "Do ya wanna _really_ go for a train ride?" Confused by what he meant, she followed him to the last passenger car before the two luggage cars, all the way at the back of the train.

"Folla me," he told her. She followed him into the deserted back car. They walked to the back of it, and Patrick looked around to make sure that there wasn't anyone watching them. He then opened the back to the car and led her into the luggage car.

"What are we doing?" she asked, following him tentatively.

"Ridin' da train," he replied with a smirk. "Jus' a little different than yous richies." She followed him with even more hesitant steps as they entered the last car. Surprisingly, they found three others already back there. One girl and two boys, dressed in regular newsie attire.

"Heya fellas," Patrick said with a smile. "How's da ride?"

"Great, Pat," one of the girls replied, and the others agreed with her. Obviously, they knew each other.

"Who's da dame with da dog?" one of the guys asked, jabbing a thumb in Brooklyn's direction.

"That's Bro-"

"Rookie," Brooklyn replied firmly, looking to Patrick with pleading eyes, begging him not to ask questions. "I'll explain later," she murmured as they went to find a place to sit down on the floor amongst the luggage.

"Rookie?" the second girl asked. "Dat ain't no richie name. What's up wit chyou?"

"None of your business," Brooklyn snapped in reply, though she didn't like snapping at someone she didn't know. But the girl backed off quickly, glancing from Patrick and back to Brooklyn.

They sat down toward the back of the car, leaning up against the wall. Brooklyn had Bear lay down next to her and held her leash tightly. She would have to let her go quickly at one of the stops along the way. She had just gone, but there was a good day ahead of them. Brooklyn bit her lip, stroking Bear's long fur gently.

The train lurched forward, and one of the newsies toward the middle stood up. He walked over to the side of the car and grabbed the handle. Brooklyn watched him intently, though the corner of her eye caught Patrick opening his newspaper. When the newsie opened the sides of the cart, Brooklyn almost gasped. She struggled to remain silent and act as if she knew what was going on, but she didn't understand why anyone would ride the train in the luggage car with both sides open. It was extremely dangerous, and quite stupid, especially when they sat close to the edge.

"Shit," Brooklyn heard Patrick mutter. She looked to him, and saw him staring intently at the newspapers. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the headline:

****

Rutger Plantation Burned to the Ground

No Survivors Found

Brooklyn grabbed the paper from Patrick, ignoring his reaction. She held it out in front of her, her hands shaking as she held it. Quickly her eyes scanned the picture of the plantation in flames, horses springing from their paddocks, complete chaos. The burning crosses in the front, just before the porch. Her eyes found the article and she began to read it.

__

Last night, cause unknown to police, the Rutger Plantation in Georgetown, South Carolina burst into flames. The flame engulfed the house in the middle of the night, eventually destroying the whole property, along with part of the barn. There were no survivors. The bodies of Theodore Rutger and his niece, Brooklyn Pulitzer, were found in the rubble. The police-

Brooklyn thrust the paper back at Patrick and pulled Wish onto her lap. She held back the tears that were welling in her eyes. Her uncle was dead, and the servants were gone also. How had they found her body? They probably mistook a servants' for her own.

She bit her lip and pulled Bear closer. The Shepherd-mutt licked her face gently, thumping her tail against the floor of the car. Brooklyn could not cry. She would not cry. Not in front of these newsies, not in front of Patrick. She gulped and pet Bear slowly, focusing with every fiber of her being not to cry. Patrick didn't attempt to talk to her, but he did send her a few wary glances. Brooklyn believed that he now understood why she wouldn't tell him why she was going to Manhattan and why she gave a false name.

Dawson. Rose. Annie. And now her Uncle? She had no one. She would not return to her family, they probably already thought she was dead. Not to mention, she had never wanted to return into the face book.

There were a few options presented to her. There was the first option: She could go to an orphanage under a different name and wind up working in a factory. The second option: When she got to Manhattan, hop onto another train and go further upstate. Somewhere she could hide and start a new life. Or, there was the third, the most difficult option.

She could always return to the Newsies.

**__**

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: Dun dun duuuuuh!

Author's Note

Oooh, a cliffeh. What path will she choose?

I'm sorry that this chapter took so long. I'm working on a story which I hope to become a novel one day and then a short story for Holocaust Remembrance Day at our school. I've also been a bit preoccupied with end-of-semester grades and extra work and such. Hopefully, the next chapter will be out within 1-2 weeks. Thank you all for being such great readers and supporters!

A big thanks to

elleestJenn**,** ilovenewsies**,** Seren McGowan**,** IrishStorm**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** NeverBeTamed**, **Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** -lover**, and** Newsiesfreak11d9

**for your fantastic reviews. I can't believe that I'm only 3 reviews away from exceeding the amount I received on 'Hear the Bells in Brooklyn', with only nine chapters! Thank you guys so much, you are the best readers an author could ask for.**


	11. If You're Gone

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Eleven: If You're Gone**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Disney does. DX

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**June 24th, 1900**

When they reached the Brooklyn train station the next day at noon, the sky was black. Thunder shook the threatening clouds, and lightening cracked at rapid intervals. Just as the train pulled in, the heavens opened up and rain fell in thick sheets.

Brooklyn had remained silent since she had read the article. She just stared out the windows thoughtlessly. She didn't want to think about what had happened. She didn't want to worry about things that were yet to come. She didn't want to cry.

So when they got off the train and Patrick asked to escort her to her destination, she refused. "I have to go alone. Thanks for accompanying me this far," she told him quietly. He nodded.

"Are ya shoah?" he asked her. "Goin' tru Brooklyn-"

"I used to live here," Brooklyn replied. "I'll make my way to Manhattan with ease. Plus, I've got Bear to protect me." Patrick nodded again, and before he turned to go his separate way, she stopped him. "Please don't tell anyone about me, Patrick."

"I won't," he replied. "Rookie, right?" Brooklyn's mouth creased into a tiny smile. She nodded.

"Yes, it's Rookie," she replied. He raised a hand in farewell, turned and parted from her. Brooklyn sighed and took down her cloak. With the rain ruining her makeup and hair, no one would recognize her. She left the train station, tucking the saddlebag under her cloak protectively. She made sure she had a good grip on Bear's leash. There were few things in the world that the pup was afraid of. Unfortunately, thunder and lightening were two of those few things.

After only walking a block in the rain, Brooklyn was drenched to the bone. It wasn't horrible, since it was hot and humid out (the rain actually felt refreshing), but poor Bear was practically having a heart attack. She walked slowly at Brooklyn's side, head down and tail nearly glued in between her legs. When the thunder would boom or lightening crack, she would whimper or yelp. Because of this, Brooklyn was thankful for the rain. It cleared the street, and no attention was brought to them.

The two continued on in the rain. At points, the rain got so heavy that Brooklyn had to stop and pause, for she couldn't see more than three or so feet in front of her. Very uncharacteristic weather for New York, but no unheard of. She focused on not thinking, just remaining completely dedicated to reaching the lodging house.

When she reached the Brooklyn Bridge, however, she was forced to stop. Once, during a thunder and lightening storm, a man had been fatally electrocuted while crossing the bride. She just couldn't take the chance. So she picked up her wet skirts and sat on the ground. Her cloak and the saddle bag underneath it were already soaked, but she still kept it hidden. She pulled back a part of her cloak and had Wish lay underneath it. She folded it over the pup, and then pulled up her hood. Not to protect her from becoming wet -as it was too late for that-, but so she didn't have a constant stream of water blurring her vision.

And so, she sat and waited.

**Spot's P.O.V.**

Spot loved the rain. Spot hated the rain. Rain meant that the earth was cooled down, and given a moment's peace. But rain also meant that no one in their right mind would be out on the streets, not when it was raining as it was now. And even if they did, rain meant soggy newspapers. Soggy newspapers that no one wanted to buy.

So he sat outside the Brooklyn Newsies' Lodging House, on the steps of their small porch. He leaned his head out, staring at the ground. This way, only his neck and head got drenched by the rain. The rest of his body was protected by the very small overhang that bore the name of the lodging house on it.

Rain meant that he had time to think. Time to think about the headline that had caused him to drop every single one of his papes the previous morning.

He couldn't believe that Brooklyn had died. Did all the girls he loved, actually loved, have to die? Was he cursed? Was God trying to tell him something? Maybe he just wasn't cut out for love…

He couldn't believe that she was gone. Forever. Dead. Burned. Incinerated. He had never gotten to see her again. He had never gotten to apologize. The last thing he had called her was a slut. She had left this world thinking that he hated her. He didn't hate her, he was starting to realize that he loved her, or something very close to it. And whoever said "out of sight, out of mind" was an asshole and a bonehead, because his need to see Brooklyn intensified with the length of time that he didn't.

His head shot up when he heard the yelp of a large dog, a pup. Who the hell would be walking their dog in this weather? With lightening and thunder to boot? But there was something familiar about that bark. He trained his eyes on the main street down the alleyway of the Lodging House. The rain lightened for only a few moments.

And that's when he saw her. Well, her hair. A shade lighter than honey, even when drenched by the rain.

But wait…she was dead.

How could she be?

He just saw her…walking right by.

Brooklyn.

Walking passed the side street, a maturing, dark-brown mutt at her side.

Spot jumped to his feet and walked swiftly down the street and onto the main road. He saw her moving in front of her, and he stopped. How did he know it was her? There had to be other blond-haired teenagers that owned brown dogs in the borough…there just had to be. He would look like an idiot if he ran up to some random girl, calling her a dead girl's name. But there was something about her.

He made a move to go after her, but the rain thickened into heavy slates. He could not see two feet in front of him, and this mystery girl was now more than half a block ahead of him. He broke into a run, hoping that he would run into her.

Instead, he collided with a lamppost he had not seen until the last second. With a pathetic grunt, he fell backwards, nearly falling onto his backside. Because he had seen it at the last second, he had been able to avoid his nose being crushed. He straightened his cap, and picked up a sprint again.

He ran until he began breathing heavy. How had he not caught up with this girl yet?

_I'm losin' me mind,_ he thought to himself. He stopped and shook his head. He turned around and started walking back to the lodging house. Was he so distressed over Brooklyn's death that he was imagining her? He really was going insane.

When he reached the lodging house, he marched in and straight up to his private room. He used the key around his neck to unlock the door and then entered, locking the door behind him. Without stripping of his wet clothing, he walked over and fell onto his bed.

He looked up, startled, when he heard a knock at the door. "Go away," he snapped angrily. But, regardless of his warning, the door opened. Spot sat up, ready to soak the daylights out of the newsie who had dared to enter his room when he told them off. But when he saw the red-headed newsie standing before him, he smirked.

"Heya, Spike," Spot said, getting up and spitting into his hand.

"How's it rollin', cuz?" Spike replied. He, too, spit on his hand and the two shook hands.

Brooklyn P.O.V.

The rain had not settled down, but the thunder and lightening had stopped, so she decided to continue her journey. She uncovered Bear, took down her hood and gathered the saddlebag in her arms. She hoped that the leather bag would protect its contents well.

The journey over the bridge was hard. Around the middle, a flash of memory of the plantation on fire came into her head. With only that image, she fell apart. She began bawling on the spot. She broke down, right then and there. She fell to her knees and bowed her head. She clasped her hands in silent prayer, stifling sobs for a few moments to mumble a few words out loud.

"Ah-men," she choked, cutting the word in half. She stood up, her legs shaky. Bear whimpered and barked at her, as if in protest to her actions.

"Shush, sweetie," she said quietly. She gripped onto the hand railing and continued her way. She had to make it to the lodging house. If she could make it to there, she would be one step closer to clearing her mind and being able to thinks thing through. She just had to last a little farther to go.

When she finally wound up at the end of the bridge, tears were falling freely down her cheeks. However, they were hidden by the rain, and Brooklyn didn't do anything to stop herself. She had no idea what time it was, how long ago she had left the train station or how long she had been sitting at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. All she could see was rain, absolutely no indication on the time of day at all.

Brooklyn walked through the streets as best she could, trying to find her way in the blinding rain. No carriages were out, no one dared to endanger their horses, drivers, carriages or themselves in this kind of weather. Brooklyn had only this kind of rain once before. She had only seen rain that had the power to clear the streets of New York once in her life, and it was when she had been very young.

Finally, it came into sight. The Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging House. Brooklyn stopped and stared down the alley momentarily, debating whether she was to continue on further. She felt something shivering against her leg and looked down. Bear looked back up at her, black eyes pleading for a dry place to stay. That was all the convincing Brooklyn needed.

Thunder cracked above them and thunder bellowed across the clouds. Bear yelped, and Brooklyn flinched. They were close now, only about fifty feet away.

Forty. Brooklyn began to bite her lip.

Thirty.

Twenty. She began to fidget with Bear's leash in her left hand.

Ten.

Five. The saddlebag suddenly felt to carry the weight of the world.

Two.

She was at the door, and Brooklyn had to force herself to keep breathing.

She could hear the newsies inside, primarily Racetrack and Kid Blink messing around. They were probably enjoying the day off. She hated the idea that she was going to ruin their fun. She looked in her saddlebag and found money that Uncle Theodore had packed her. She took out a dollar and then hid the saddlebag in her cloak.

She had to do it now, she had to open the door now, or she feared she never would. So in one movement, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Thunder boomed and lightening flashed. _What an effect_, Brooklyn thought ruefully to herself as she walked in.

She zeroed in on the front desk, where Kloppman had turned around. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw every head turn in her direction. She heard "Rookie" and "dead" and "bitch" mumbled a few times, but she just focused straight ahead of her, on the little book out on the counter. She felt like time was sped up, like she reached it in the blink of an eye.

"You know the name, Mr. Kloppman," she whispered. The whisper sounded like a shout in the sudden silence and Brooklyn could've sworn she heard it echo against the wall. She placed the dollar on the book and, without looking at any of the newsies, turned and walked up the stairs.

She was a coward, a stupid coward. Unable to look any of them in the face for fear of judgment, for fear of what they would say to her, for fear of the look in their eyes. So she walked away. She was a spineless, rude, coward. And she hated herself for it. But she felt that she could not do anything at the moment. The weight of the world had transferred from the bag to her shoulders when she placed the dollar on the book and realization of everything, every little thing, that had happened in the passed seven months hit her like a brick to the forehead.

She walked over to her old bunk, and it seemed unoccupied. She dried Bear off with the light blanket and removed her cloak, letting it fall to the ground.

She lifted up the mattress, surprised to see everything the way she had left it. She laid out the saddlebag under it, not willing to go through it's contents.

And then she was on the bed and under the covers, unsure of how she had gotten there. Bear was at the foot of the bed, her nose resting on her calf. She closed her eyes, and she was asleep.

While on the border of a light slumber and R.E.M, she heard voices. Loud, angry voices. But she hadn't the strength to get up and fight back. Nor had she the will to. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to face them. She did not want to relive the passed five and a half months that she was in North Carolina. She did not want to relive the passed three days. She just wanted to rest. The last thing she heard of the real world was a comment by a girl, a voice she could not recognize in her exhaustion.  
"Just let her sleep heah foah da night, boys," whoever-she-was said. "We'll deal wit her tamarrah befoah woik."

&--&

Brooklyn woke up before it was light out. She sat up with a start, but clasped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from uttering a shout or a yelp. Memories came flooding back from a dreamless sleep, and she began to breath easy.  
Still feeling the ultimate cowardice, she snuck out of bed. She pulled her brush from under her mattress and pulled all of the knots out. She then braided it quickly and tied the end with a brown ribbon that matched her still-damp skirt. She clasped Wish's leash on her collar and the two snuck across the bunkroom floor.

Out the window she and Bear went, and they climbed the stairs to the roof. She held onto Bear's leash tightly, shortening the amount of slack she gave her dog. She walked over toward one of the edges, stopping about ten feet short. She turned to the east and sat down, having Bear lay down next to her. The tired pup did so eagerly, instantly rolling to her side and stretching out. Brooke smiled and stared out, watching a tiny line of light appear out on the horizon. It couldn't be passed four o'clock, four-fifteen in the morning.

She didn't know when she would go and talk to the newsies, and she didn't know how. She just knew that she had to think things through before she did. She wouldn't go to work for today, she would let them blow off steam and forget about her for a little while before she returned to present her case. Hopefully, she would be able to muster up the courage to go to them instead of having them come to her.

Hopefully.

_**X**_

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**Author's Note:**

**She's ba-ack. I know this chapter was loose, and I hope I didn't disappoint you guys, my faithful readers. My lovely, faithful readers that without this story would be dead and gone, lost in the archives of . Thank you so much for staying with me this far.**

**A big thanks to **EmeraldGreyClouds**,** midnight1899**,** Newsiesfreak11d9**,** CorruptMe**,** IrishStorm**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes** and **ilovenewsies** for your fabulous reviews of Chapter 10!**

**This chapter was based off of Matchbox Twenty's "If You're Gone", and that's where the title comes from.**

**xEquestriad**


	12. Home

Only Time Will Tell

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Chapter Twelve: Home

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Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the newsies. Only my characters and my plot.

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Brooklyn was starving. Not the 'oh, I'm hungry, I need a light snack' hungry. The 'oh-my-goodness I'm thinking about eating my own hand' kind of hungry. Her stomach growled loudly. She placed a hand on her mid-section, as if trying to silence it. Bear whined and placed her head on Brooklyn's lap. She was hungry, too. Night had fallen hours ago, and the two of them were still sitting atop the lodging house roof. Used to receiving three square meals a day, Brooklyn's stomach was in revolt.

Every time that Brooklyn had tried to go downstairs, cowardice overcame her. She could not bring herself to face the newsies, not yet. She wanted to, but something stopped her.

The 'what if' factor. What if they didn't believe her? What if they threw her out? What if they hated her? What if…

She shuddered and lay back, staring up at the night sky. She wished the answer would just fly down from the stars and hit her in the face.

"Ow!" she exclaimed as something hard hit the top of her head.

"Holy shit!" she heard Jack's voice and she sat up quickly, and then jumped to her feet. It was so dark; she could only see his silhouette and the burning end of his cigarette. Bear growled not-so-menacingly, and Jack backed up a few steps. "Rookie?" he asked the darkness.

"Yes, Jack?" Brooklyn replied quietly, tentatively.

"What da hell were ya doin'?" he asked her. "Layin' on da floah or somethin'?"

"Yes…" Brooklyn trailed off. "…Or something."

"Why the hell are ya up heah?" he asked her. "Don't ansa dat. Why da hell are ya heah, in New Yawk? We's thoughtcha split months ago."

"I did," she replied, her quiet voice reaching an even quieter volume. "A lot's happened since then, Jack."

"Really? Anuff ta drives ya back heah ta harass us?"

"Harass you?" Brooklyn was shocked. "No, never! Jack…I came back because-"

"You wanna get us inta moah trouble?"

"Trouble? Jack, what are you talking about?" Brooklyn was confused, and slightly afraid of Jack's quick temper. He had never been this short when she had known him.

"Like ya don' know," he replied. His voice was tight, but the volume had lowered. "I'm shoah it was yoah shinin' moment when ya saw dat articahl yoah Uncle Pulatza printed."

"The one I was interviewed for?" Brooklyn didn't let him start his sentence before she continued on. "Jack, I never saw that article. I wasn't _allowed_ to see the article, my mother forbade it. I was vague when I told the story, I have no idea how the writer or my uncle, or even my own mother contorted my words."

"Shoah, shoah," Jack replied, and Brooklyn watched as the cigarette was raised and he blew out a puff of smoke after inhaling.

"Why don't you believe me?" she asked, distressed.

"Why should I?" Jack's counter stung, but Brooklyn knew he was right. He had no reason to believe her, she didn't deserve his trust. So she remained silent, watching him take another drag of his cigarette. He approached her until he was only about six inches away. She could see his features more clearly. He had definitely gotten a taller, and it looked like he become more muscular.

"I'm telling the truth, Jack," she said quietly.

"Sayin' it ain't good anuff foah me," Jack replied. "An' it's not gonna be good anuff foah any a' the guys. Ya gotta prove it." They stood there in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "C'mon, yoah gonna tell us yoah little tale." He started off toward the fire escape, and she immediately followed him down, grasping Bear's leash tightly.

When they entered the bunk room, Brooklyn wasn't well received. The moment she walked in with Jack, every head turned to her. She saw six people she had never seen before. Four of them were girls, two of them were guys. The only eyes that didn't narrow into a glare were those six strangers, and Mush. She couldn't bare to look hold a glance. His eyes showed disappointment, hurt, and distrust, like a parent whose child had shamed the family name.

"Still heah, huh?" it was Racetrack that spoke up. His voice was bitter and edged, cutting tense air like a knife. Brooklyn looked over to him, and his eyes were burning holes into hers. Anger and hate, that's all she saw within them. "We's thought ya cut out again. We was just sayin' 'Maybe she really died dis time. Maybe we won't have ta go hungry again." Brooklyn felt the heat rising to her face, felt tears forming in the back of her eyes. She blinked them back, determined not cry. Racetrack just didn't stop the assault, and she wondered how long it was going to last. But she also pondered his words. They had gone hungry? What was he talking about? "Someone's missin, toots, da ya see who? Coz-"

"Race!" Jack cut the angered newsie off. "Wouldja shut up? Rook heah has a story ta tell us." Brooklyn looked around the room quickly. Missing? Who was missing? She scanned every face as discretely as possible. Boots. Where was Boots?

"A story?" it was Skittery who piped in this time. "We don't want any story, Rookie. We want the truth. We want answers."

"What do ya think's gonna be in da story, Skitts?" Jack asked. Skittery mumbled something under his breath. Jack continued; "Sos everybody shut up an' listen up!" He looked to Brooklyn. "Da floah is yoahs." Brooklyn nodded and looked to her audience.

"Well, it all started back in January…" she began with everything, including the part with Mush. During that part, Mush backed further away from her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and looking down.

"So when he called me that," she said, telling them about when Spot called her a slut. "I don't know what happened. For some reason, I decided to listen to him. For some reason, I thought he was right. I believed him. I didn't belong with you guys in the Newsies, I belonged back with the other hoity toity richies. So I hit him and I ran away."

"You hit him?" Skittery asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah…" Brooklyn trailed, playing with her fingers and looking down at the ground briefly before looking back up and making eye contact with Skittery. "…In the face…but anyway…" She continued on with the story.

When she got up to Dawson, she kept it brief. She called him "my guy" a few times, but nothing major. She skimmed over the wedding lightly and then got to the point when Dawson left. "Actually…he came here to become a newsie. Have you seen him?"

"Da guy dat looks like Spot?" Racetrack asked. "The one I saw ya wit at da train station?" Brooklyn nodded. "I thought I recognized him! Sneaky bastard. But yeah, he's wit us now. Name's Suave. Nevah have I seen a guy able ta tawk a whole room a' pissed newsies down befoah." Brooklyn smiled, happy to know that Dawson was here, in New York, and they could be together again, this time with no limits of society of where they could be seen. She was even happier to hear that he was doing well, and was well accepted. So she continued on.

She explained the death of Rose, and then the death of Annie. When she got up to the fire, and how she escaped, her voice caught. "W..when I looked back and saw the house burning…I knew that there was no way he could have survived. But my mind wouldn't accept it. So I hoped he was still alive." She paused. "I met a newsie down there, Patrick, who had originally told me about the war going on up here. He said he had business in Brooklyn-"

"Who was he?" Jack cut in quickly. "What was da guy's name?"

"Patrick," she replied. "But I remember that someone on the train had called him Spike."

"Shit," Jack replied, and looked to Racetrack. The two of them had made eye contact. "When she's done, get a message to Queens." Racetrack nodded.

"Can ya hurry up, Rook?" he asked her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nevahmind now, just finish da story," Race replied.

So she continued, right up to the very moment that she returned to the lodging house. "I'm sorry I didn't speak with you immediately, but suddenly I felt like a coward and I didn't have the strength to face you. Everything-" She stopped and looked down briefly. "Bottom line is that I'm sorry. For everything. All I have are excuses and the most sincere apology I've ever made in my life." She tried to make eye contact with everyone in the room -save those new six- to convey her deepest request for forgiveness.

"We'll see," Racetrack said as he got up and went over to Jack. A few whispers exchanged between them and Race left the room and his steps could be heard tromping down the stairs. Brooklyn looked back to the rest of the newsies. Skittery walked up to her slowly and held out his hand. She took it, and shook it gently.

"Welcome back, Rookie," he said quietly, in his glum tone. This motion moved Brooklyn greatly. Skittery was usually the most pessimistic and untrusting person. But the fact that he was the first person to come up and officially welcome her back made her heart swell. If Skittery could find it in his heart to trust her, then hopefully the others could too.

The tension in the air broke, and the other newsies began to say their cautious words of welcome. Brooklyn was introduced to the six new faces.

There was Runner. She was tall, at least five-foot nine and very lean. Her black hair was tied high up in a pony tail, the tips reaching the bottom of her neck. As they shook hands, her gray eyes studied Brooklyn carefully. Her legs were very muscular, and Itey explained that she got her name from how fast she could run. "Three blocks in thoity seconds," Crutchy informed Brooklyn. "Unbahleavable!"

Then there was Sweetheart. Short, only about five feet tall. She had womanly curves for her small size, and was very attractive. Platinum blonde hair fell to her hips in a long French braid. She had dark brown eyes that were bright and welcoming. "Nice to meet you," she said kindly, and Brooklyn couldn't hear an accent in her voice. "I'm a runaway too, that's why don't have an accent." She had caught onto Brooklyn's confusion and cleared it up without Brooklyn even having to ask a question.

The third girl was Shadow. She was a tall, beautiful African American girl. She had large, black eyes that matched her black curly hair, tied back tightly in a bun on the top of her neck. She was very thin, but Brooklyn could tell, even through the bagginess of her shirt, that she was muscular. When the two shook hands, Brooklyn had to keep herself from muttering 'ow'. Very strong. "Why are you called Shadow?" she questioned delicately, hoping not to offend if it was because the color of her skin.

"'Cause I use da shadows to sneak up on people," she replied with a toothy smile. "Gave Mush a good scare da odda day." Brooklyn laughed and looked over to Mush, who was laughing weakly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His nervous tick.

The fourth and final girl was Cat. She was Brooklyn's height, around five-feet, four-inches tall. She was thin, but shapely as well. Every part of her was defined, especially her face. A small, delicate nose and a small mouth with light red lips. Her almond-shaped eyes were set a little far apart, but she had sharp, green eyes with small pupils. Her bright orange hair was tied back in a high pony-tail, and it only reached the bottom of her neck. The way she moved was graceful and easy. _Just like a cat_, Brooklyn thought to herself as they shook hands. She was quiet, and seemed to herself. As soon as they had released each other's hands, she walked back to her bunk.

The first new boy that Brooklyn was introduced to was Copy-Cat, or 'Cop' for short. He was only ten years-old, with short scruffy red hair and bright blue eyes. Freckles painted his face, and he had a devilish smile. "Be careful a' him," Skittery later warned her. "Some a' da guys wanted ta name him Grabber."

The second boy, and the last new face was Pirate. Like Kid Blink, he had an eye patch. His was on his right eye, however, and the patch was black instead of brown. When they were introduced, he lifted up the patch to reveal that unlike his left eye, which was a topaz color, was a pale, pale blue. "I got poked in da eye when I was younga," he told her in a smooth, silky voice. "Blinded me. Some a' da custamas don't like seein' it, sos I put dis over it." But his eye patch wasn't the only clue to the name 'Pirate'. Strapped on the inside of his left calf, hidden by his pants, was a very sharp knife. His dark brown hair reached his ears, and fell straight. He was deeply tan. Also very tall, at least six-foot two. Brooklyn had to lift her head almost as far as it could go to meet his eyes when they shook hands.

"Do ya got a change a' clothes?" Jack asked Brooklyn as they were getting ready for bed.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. She had brought her saddlebag out from underneath her bed and had opened it. Going through it, a piece of red fabric caught her eye. _It can't be_, she thought to herself. _No…_ "Wait," she said. She pulled out the cloth, and out came her old newsie shirt, rolled up tight with her black pants, suspenders and hat. When she unrolled them, a note fell out. She grabbed it quickly and unfolded it.

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**My Dear Niece,**

**I managed to find these in one of your drawers on our trip to New York.**

**These are if the worst is to happen. Just in case. Just so you know you have a choice. Just so you know you have a chance to be happy.**

**All my love,**

**Uncle Theodore**

Brooklyn choked back a sob as she picked up the cloth and stared at it. She didn't care how odd she must have appeared to the others, for she couldn't help it. Tears began pouring out of her eyes, and she dropped the clothes and put her head in her hands. Oh, the kindness of her Uncle Theodore, her poor Uncle Theodore.

She felt arms around her, and when she looked up, she saw Sweetheart's gentle face looking at her sympathetically. "Shh," she quieted gently. "It's all right now." She hugged Brooklyn gently, confusing her. This perfect stranger was consoling her sudden burst of emotion. Sweetheart was definitely the perfect name for that girl.

When Brooklyn's mourning emotions had subsided, she set her clothes up under her mattress and folded the saddlebag under there as well. The money she had been given would remain in the saddlebag until she desperately needed it. Just incase she or one of the other newsies fell ill or were badly injured. From the point that she put the saddlebag away underneath the mattress, she would live as if she never had it.

Later that night, when they were all in bed, Brooklyn stared up at the top bunk and let out a shaky sigh. Bear, who had snuggled up right next to her, licked the hand she had placed near her snout. Brooklyn ran her fingers through her hair and laid her head back on the thin pillow. It was a hot night, and the sheets were kicked back to the end of the bed, sweat already beginning to form on her brow. Having a big, furry pup next to her didn't help, but she didn't move Bear. Besides, she felt completely comfortable in the stuffy, humid bunk room with the thirty some-odd others that shared it.

Rookie was back.

Rookie was home.

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Author's Note:

-feels satisfied-

I hope you liked this chapter, it turned out a lot better than I expected it too.

A HUGE thank you to

elleestJenn**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** ilovenewsies**,** Seren McGowan**, **Corrupt Me**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Newsiesfreak11d9**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** **and **Kimiko16

**for your amazing reviews. Only two away from one hundred! My first one hundred reviews! You guys are just so amazing, without you this fan fiction would be nothing. I owe 'Hear the Bells in Brooklyn' and 'Only Time Will Tell' all to you guys.**


	13. Portrait of a Girl

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Thirteen: Portrait of a Girl**

_Disclaimer: In no way, shape or form am I earning any profit from this fan fiction. This is purely for nerd-based fun. I don't own 'Newsies'._

**Author's Note**: **I have changed a few things in this fan fiction, including Wish. She is now a large shepherd-mix named Bear. Same age and everything, but completely different breed. There's a picture on my profile, and I describe her in more detail in previous chapters that I have edited. Just letting you know so you don't get confused.**

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**{Brooklyn Bridge, 1:35P.M}**

Spot sighed and kicked an old rusty can down the length of the Brooklyn Bridge. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his cane in in between his shirt and his red suspender on his right side. His hat was low, covering his brow. He was accompanied by no one. He caught up to the can and kicked it again. This time it was so high and so hard that it flew through one of the railings and into the river.

"Damn," he murmured to himself, walking over to the edge and watching the can float slowly down the river, bobbing up and down in the water. "Dere goes dat." He sighed and reached his right hand out of his pocket, grasping the top of his cane. Around his wrist was a band of white cloth. A sign of peace.

Why he had agreed to walk all the way to Manhattan, he hadn't the slightest clue. Something made him agree to the idea of talking with Cowboy. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to fight.

God, it was hot. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head before slicking his hair back and placing his hat over it. He rolled his sleeves up to an inch or so above his elbow. He tried with all his might to keep his eyes off the river, or he might just take a running leap and go diving in.

_Shoulda went swimmin' wit da guys dis mohnin',_ he thought to himself. He shook the thought out of his head. He had to get to this meeting by two, and he had left around one. "Damn," he murmured to himself out loud again. It's not like he wouldn't be excused for being late --he was Spot Conlon-- but he didn't like that it would make it look like he didn't care about the war. Oh, he cared, especially because he had practically caused it.

He planned on finishing it. He planned on winning it.

When he stepped off the bridge, he took his other hand out of his pocket and hooked his thumb on his suspender. That wrist too had a white band around it. He didn't want to take any chances on getting attacked, not today. It was too hot for that shit.

He took his cane out of his suspender and began twirling it around with subtle movements of his fingers. His eyes trained ahead of him, finding himself lost in thought.

And then Spot saw him. On sight, he swore that whoever this was could've been his twin…except taller. The guy looked like he wasn't doing too well. His eyes were trained on the ground, his feet kicking up dirt. He looked extremely upset, to say the least. What was the word that he had heard a richie used? Distraught, yeah, that was it. He looked distraught.

"Hey, yous!" Spot called up to the newsie. The newsie turned around, looking to Spot. His back became rigid, and his stance defensive. "Oh relax, I ain't gonna do anythin'," he told the newsie. He lifted up both of his wrists. "I'm heah on business." The other newsie still eyed him warily.

"What do dey call ya?" Spot asked him.

"Suave," the other newsie replied, and Spot smirked. _Oh yeah, he's a real debonair-y himself_, he thought ruefully himself. _Must be from Queens. Nah, I think I's seen him befoah. Manhattan?_

"Wheah ya from?" Spot asked.

"Why do ya wanna know?" Suave asked cautiously.

"I'm Spot Conlon, I like ta know stuff like dis," Spot replied, edging his voice to a slightly threatening tone.

"'Hattan," Suave replied, eyebrow raised. Spot could've sworn he heard this newsie mumble; "Business…hah," under his breath.

"Whatja say?" Spot asked.

"Nothin'," Suave replied easily.

"Wheah ya commin' from?" Spot asked.

"None a' your business," this time Suave was firm.

"All right, all right," Spot put up his hands and looked ahead. "Goin' ta da 'Hattan Lodgin' House?"

"Yeah…"

"I'll join ya." Out of his peripheral vision, Spot saw Suave look over in surprise.

The two of them began to talk uneasily. Bits and pieces about the damages of the war. Spot had to admit, this guy's name fit him. Very suave, able to talk down the most tense nerves. In the back of his mind he wondered if it was also a clue to how he worked with girls, as well.

That's when it happened.

They turned down a street, and he heard her voice.

"Fire devastates factory!" she called, her voice clear as a bell. "Seventeen dead, sixty dying, only four make it out unscathed." He barely saw Suave's head perk up out of the corner of his eye, because at that moment, his vision zeroed in.

Brooklyn. Brooklyn was standing only twenty or so feet away. Healthy as anything, wearing the same clothes Spot had bought her more than half a year ago. She looked…beautiful. Her hair was down and tied in a low pony-tail, it reached her mid-back now. Her black hat sat on her head, and she was waving her paper high above her head. She made a sale, smiling as she put the earned coin in her pocket.

And then she turned and saw them. But Spot realized something. She wasn't looking at him, rather right passed him. He looked to his right and saw that she and Suave had locked eyes.

"Dawson!" Brooklyn cried, and Spot's stomach did a flip when a wide smile spread across her face as she looked at him.

"Brooklyn!" Suave replied. Brooklyn bolted from her corner and towards the two of them. She didn't even notice Spot as she was nearly five feet away from the two newsies. She dropped her paper and ran into Suave's arms. Spots heart nearly ripped out of his chest as the two met in a passionate kiss. His eyes narrowed to a glare and he clutched his cane so tight that his knuckles paled.

He felt something nudging him and looked down. "Heya, Bear," he said to the large dog. "Someone's been eatin' good." He scratched the dog on the head, trying to ignore Brooklyn and Suave or Dawson, or whoever that newsie was.

**{Manhattan Lodging House, 7:35AM}**

Rookie yawned as she rolled out of bed. She hit the floor with a painful '_thud_', and was laughed at by Shadow, who had the bunk above her. "Do you always getup dat way?" she asked as she hopped down nimbly next to her. She held out a hand and Rookie smiled, accepting it.

"Only on special occasions," she replied jokingly.

"Oh yeah?" Shadow asked. "And what occasion be today?"

"My first day back as a newsie," Rookie replied with a bright smiled.

"An' dat's somethin' ta be excited about?"

"Very."

Shadow rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yoah name should be "Crazy", not "Rookie"."

Unfortunately, Bear was not as excited to be woken up. She whined and almost fell over herself when she hopped down from the bed. Rookie smiled, rubbing her fluffy brown-black fur behind her ears. "C'mon, girly, time to get up." She and Bear walked over to the washing area. Surprisingly, even after six months without the newsies, half-naked males had no affect on her. She just walked on through, washing her face and brushing her hair. She cupped her hands and managed to scoop up some water and gave it to Wish so she would be hydrated until they got to the nun cart and they were able to get a little more.

"Do you know Da-er- Suave?" she asked Sweetheart as they stood face-to-face, brushing their hair.

"Yes I do, you're lucky to have him," Sweetheart replied kindly.

"Where is he?" Rookie asked.

"He left yesterday to send a message to Queens," the shorter girl replied. "He must have stayed there for the night because of the awful storm." Rookie nodded, though slightly disappointed. She really had hoped that he would be the first one to greet her when she returned to the lodging house. Obviously, that didn't happen, but she wished that he had come in late last night and would have been there when she woke up.

Rookie pulled her hair back into a low pony tail while Sweetheart braided her own hair.

"How do I look?" the both asked at the same time.

"Great," they both responded at the same time, chuckling as they slapped their hats on their heads.

"Sweetheart?" Rookie asked as the two walked down the stairs.

"Yes?"

"Can…can I ask you a serious question?"

"Sure, hon, anything."

When they were out of the lodging house, Rookie took Sweetheart a little ways down the alley so they could be away from the ears of the others. "Where's Boots?" she asked Sweetheart, biting her lip.

"Oh," Sweetheart said quietly, biting her own lip and looking around to see the others. "He's in the Refuge."

"What?!" Rookie exclaimed. "How…when…because of me?" Sweetheart nodded.

"I won't say anymore," she continued. "Because there's a lot of stuff that I've only heard about. I'd talk to Jack or Race or Blink if you want answers." Rookie nodded and began pulling at her pony-tail. "Oh, don't worry about him now. He'll be out in July. Just go and talk to Jack or something later. Don't let it ruin your whole day."

"Sweetheart?" Rookie began as they started toward the nun's cart. Her stomach was growling like crazy, hunger pangs running through her with each grumble.

"Yeah, Rookie?" Sweetheart replied.

"Would you mind sticking with me for an hour or so?" Rookie asked. "You know, just so I can re-teach myself a bit."

"Sure, Rook," Sweetheart said with a smile. "But just this once."

"Thanks a bunch, Sweet."

Rookie tried to eat her portion of bread as slowly as possible so that her stomach would have time to register that there was food in it. When she finished it, she was still hungry, but her stomach only grumbled now. Grumbling she could deal with, hunger pangs were a little harder to handle. She gave the other half to Bear slowly, so that the pup's stomach would do the same thing. She then took the cup of water the nun offered and tipped Bear's head back and opened her mouth. After taking a quick sip for herself, she poured the rest down Bear's throat and handed the cup back to the nuns.

After getting their papers (Rookie started small with only twenty, she'd get more of the afternoon edition), Sweetheart and Rookie headed down the street, calling out the headlines. Sweetheart was good, and was easily able to sell to the male population. "It's all on your approach, remember that," Sweetheart told Rookie. "Don't get too aggressive, or you'll scare them away. And make sure you use the 'I'm such a defenseless, helpless, girl' approach as well to get a sympathy buy." Rookie nodded and listened. "And the fact that you've got a cute pup like Bear is really going to help."

The two girls met up with Shadow, Cat and Runner to go to lunch at Tibby's before they would return to the World headquarters to get the afternoon edition. "How's yoah first day back, Rook?" Shadow asked as they entered. Their conversation was cut off when Old Man Tibby came to the door.

"No dogs all-" he stopped himself as he looked from Rookie to Bear. "That's not…you're not…?"

"Yes, that's her and yes it's me," Rookie said with a smile. "I hope we're still welcome."

"Of course," Old Man Tibby said. "Just make sure she stays on the floor, now."

"Absolutely, thank-you very much, Mr. Tibby!" Rookie said with a smile. He smiled and bustled back to the kitchen. Rookie turned back to Shadow. "It's going very well, thank you," Rookie replied. She looked over to Sweetheart. "Sweet's been a big help this morning."

"But I think she's ready to be set free for the afternoon and evening editions," Sweetheart said with a smile, nudging Rookie's side. "Think you can handle it?" Rookie laughed and nudged her back.

"I think I can," she said as they sat down in a booth.

When Old Man Tibby came to the table to take their orders, Rookie ordered her old favorite. "Except, with extra roast beef and water, please."

"That will be ten cents," Old Man Tibbs said carefully. "Can you pay for that?" Rookie bit her lip but nodded. She had paid for two months with the dollar she had given to Kloppman the night of her return. She would have to be very conscious of what she spent her money on, now, because Bear was going through a tremendous growth spurt. Since she was a larger dog, their old veterinarian had told Rookie that she would probably reach her adult size at one to one and a half years-old.

"Why'd ya take on a dog, if ya gotta feed two mouths now?" Shadow asked after Old Man Tibby walked away. Rookie explained he whole story in detail.

"Spot did that, for you?" Cat asked incredulously. Rookie was quite surprised by her question, as she hadn't heard Cat speak since they had met. But she nodded and explained in vague detail what had happened before then.

"So that's why you ran away when he called you a slut," Runner concluded after Rookie was done.

"Yeah, basically," Rookie replied, looking down at Bear. She was laying down with her head on her paws and eyes closed.

When Mr. Tibby brought the food, Rookie had the fullest plate. But, out of the eight slices of roast beef that were there, she only had two pieces and ate a quarter of her mashed potatoes. The rest she put on the floor for Bear to devour. After the dog had cleared her plate, Rookie put the water that she hadn't drank on the plate and let Bear lap it all up. She put the plate back on the table and sighed. Bear had sat up, and in a mechanical motion, Rookie scratched behind her ears. "Good girl," she mumbled.

When they had all finished, Rookie put ten cents -half of her morning's earnings- on the table and stood up. They five girls left the table and started back toward the distributor. "Wonda if da aftanoon's headline is good," Shadow commented.

"I hope so," Rookie replied. "I know that headlines don't sell papers, that newsies do and all-that, but I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"You'll be fine," Sweetheart consoled. "Just remember what I told you, and you'll do fine."

"I hope so," Rookie repeated. "I would like to be able to share my dog's dinner."

"You'd feed your dog before yourself?" Cat asked.

"Absolutely," Rookie replied assertively, and that was that.

When they had gotten their papers, Rookie was relieved. It was a continuation of the morning's headline. Apparently, seven more people had died from the factory fire, two of them being managers and worker over-seers. Excellent headline.

She stood at her corner with her twenty papers and Bear at her side. She had her dog lay down at her feet and she began to call out the headline. "Fire devastates factory!" she called, waving the paper over her head. "Seventeen dead, sixty dying, only four make it out unscathed." A man was approaching her, and she put on her friendliest smile. "Buy a paper, sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes a bit. He smiled and bought one, and gave Bear a pat on the head. "Thank you very much, sir!"

She continued working, and using Sweetheart's tactics, she was selling at a good pace. She already had five gone, and in about forty-five minutes of selling, that was excellent.

"Fire devastates factory!" she called again. Another businessman came up to her and bought her paper quickly, giving her barely enough time to thank him before he continued on his way. She turned to try a different crowd, and her green eyes wound up clashing with dark blue. She knew those eyes. She examined the face, and a broad smile broke out across her face.

"Dawson!" she exclaimed. Her heart swelled in her chest as she watched him smile.

"Brooklyn!" he called back. She whistled to Bear and sprinted toward Dawson. He had been walking with someone, but she didn't pay attention to him. Her vision had focused on Dawson. All she saw was him. She ran into his arms and they met in a kiss.

"I…thought…you…were…dead…" Dawson said between kisses.

"I…have…so…much…to…tell…you," Rookie replied in between the following kisses. They pulled away from each other and embraced.

"Oh!" Dawson said. "There's someone I want ya to meet." They separated and Dawson turned to introduce his new friend to her. Rookie's heart jolted when Spot and her eyes met, and her back went rigid. His stance also stiffened, and they stood their staring at each other.

"Bear, come here," she told her dog. The dog walked over happily, obliviously. "Sit."

"Brooklyn, this is Spot Conlon," Dawson said slowly, watching the two carefully.

"I know," Rookie snapped. "We've met. C'mon, Dawson, we've got to catch up." She took Dawson's arm and began to drag him away. She had Bear at her heel and kept pulling at Dawson. "I'll explain later," she told Dawson through clenched teeth.

"See ya, Spot!" Dawson said as they walked away. Dawson dipped down and kissed Rookie's cheek. She took the hand she was holding and brought it up to her lips and kissed it. They both smiled at each other, and walked quite a ways in a blissful silence.

"Where are we going?" Dawson asked.

"Lodging House," Rookie replied. "We've got to talk." And they went back to their blissful silence.

"Oh, Brooklyn?" Dawson said as they were about a block away from the lodging house.

"Yes, Dawson?" Rookie replied, looking to him.

"It's Suave, now."

"I know," she replied with a smile and then looked ahead.

"Hey Suave?" she Rookie said as they turned down the alley to get to the lodging house.

"Yeah, Brooklyn?" Suave asked, looking to Rookie as she looked to him. They were both smiling, big, toothy smiles.

"It's Rookie, now."

"I know."

Their reunion was very emotional. Each of them told their stories, but only Rookie ended hers in near-hysterics. "Da-Suave, I've missed you so much," she cried into his shoulder.

"I've missed you too, Rookie," he replied quietly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding her against him. "But it's all okay now, I'm here and you're here. We're together."

"I love you," Rookie said quietly, into Suave's shirt.

"I love you, too," Suave replied, kissing the top of her head and then resting his chin where he kissed. "I love you, too."

**X**

**X**

**Author's Note****: **

**Eh, I'm not that excited over how I ended that chapter. What do you guys think? How'd you like it?**

**A HUGE thanks to **Corrupt Me**,** elleestJenn**,** IrishStorm**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**, **ilovenewsies**,** Seren McGowan **and** NeverBeTamed** for your awesome reviews that set me over 100 reviews…my first 100! I love you guys so much, and I'm so ecstatic that you've stuck with me thus far. I hope you liked this chapter.**

**xEquestriad**

**P.S. I renaimed this chapter "Portrait of a Girl" it's a song from Bare. (Thanks a bunch, **EmeraldGreyClouds**!)**


	14. A Different Sort of Reunion

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Fourteen: A Different Sort of Reunion**

_Disclaimer: I don't own newsies. Bah._

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It was a week after Rookie had rejoined the newsies, and she was still getting used to the awkward, unsteady meals. Because Bear was getting bigger and required more food (which consequently cost more money), the two now skipped lunch to save money for a nice dinner.

At the moment, Rookie and Bear were walking down the street toward Tibby's. It had been a particularly difficult day of selling, and the temperature was well into the eighties. The sun was setting and the air was cooling down slightly, but Rookie was still looking forward to a nice tall glass of water. Her stomach grumbled slightly, but she was more concerned about hydrating herself and Bear.

As she walked along, she saw Racetrack cut out of an alley and start walking towards Tibby's. The two hadn't spoken much this passed week, except for "scuse me"s and "thanks"s occasionally if they bumped into each other. But she wanted desperately to patch things up with him, as he had been so great to her back in January.

"Race!" she called, and jogged up beside him.

"What doya want, Rook?" he asked her as she made it to his side. He didn't even look over.

"Are you heading over to Tibby's?" she asked him.

"Yeah, what's it ta you?"

"Mind if I join you?"

"Yeah, I do.

"Come on, Racetrack," Rookie pleaded. "I want -" she stopped herself briefly. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah? Bout what, may I ask, must you tawk ta me about?"

"Boots." Rookie's voice was quiet and careful. "Sweetheart gave me a general idea, but I want to know more about it and she told me to ask you or Jack-"

"So ask Jack," Racetrack cut off.

"But I saw you first, and I want to talk to _you_." Rookie protested. "_Please_ Race." Racetrack looked over to him and she met his eyes. "Please."

"Fine," Racetrack snapped. He pulled a half-smoked cigar and a match out of his pocket. He struck the match on the brick of a building and relit the cigar. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke on his left side, away from Rookie.

When they reached Tibby's, Race tossed his cigar to the side and the three entered. Racetrack led Rookie to the table farthest in the back. "Privacy," he said, sitting down. Rookie followed his example and had Bear lay down next to her chair. "What do ya wanna know?"

"What happened after I left, after that article printed?" Rookie asked. "When I first arrived you told me that the newsies battled hunger. From Sweetheart, I heard that Boots got sent to the refuge and he's not going to be back until next month. What happened to you guys when I left?" Racetrack stared at for a moment.

"Gimme a moment ta think how I's gonna tell ya," Racetrack said as Old Man Tibby walked over. "Afta we orda our food."

"Okay," Rookie replied. When Old Man Tibby reached the table, she ordered her and Bear's regular meal. Racetrack ordered a turkey sandwich and a root beer. When Tibbs left, he turned to Rookie, looking her straight in the eye.

"I'm gonna tell ya exactly what happened, ya got me?" he asked her. She nodded. "I don't want no innaruptions 'less I ask yoah opinion or a question, got it?" Rookie nodded. "Good." He paused, and thought for a moment before looking back to Rookie. She folded her hands on the table and leaned in slightly. He followed her movements, trying to make their conversation as private as possible.

"Remembah," he said in a low voice. "No innaruptions." Rookie nodded, though she wasn't sure if she could keep that commitment. "Now, did you evah see dat ahticle dat yoah Uncle printed?" Rookie shook her head. "You sweah?" She nodded. "Okay. Well, dat ahticle had some pretty bad stuff about us newsies, right? It said dat we kidnapped you an' bribed ya inta stayin'. It also made some comments how somethin' musta happened ta ya coz ya couldn't remembah yoah own woids durin' da intaview." Rookie remembered how she had faked a fuzzy memory while telling her tale.

"Sos afta dat day, da guys an' I go out ta sell, an all we get is doity looks," he continued on. "Some people even walked ta da otha side a' da street, just ta get away from us. Like we's was wild animals, ya see?" Rookie's eyes widened. She wanted to interrupt and apologize, but she kept her mouth shut, just like Racetrack told her to. "It got real hahd ta sell afta dat papa came out. Real hahd. We was brought down ta maybe foah or five custamas each…if we was lucky."

"At one point, da lodgin' house was empty, coz no one could affohd ta live dere," Racetrack further explained, and Rookie had to restrain herself from taking a sharp intake of breath. She forced herself to continue breathing normally. "We's was all livin on da' streets or in da refuge, if dey caught us." Rookie wanted to interrupt so badly, she was biting her lip to hold the words back into her mouth. She just wanted to apologize.

"Now Boots couldn't take it," Race replied. "Sos he goes an' steals from a richie, grabs an apple right from her basket at da market. Sos he gets caught real easily and trown inta da refuge foah a few days. Dis was mid-Febuary dat it happened. He gets out, an foah a while he's fine. Dey soive ya food in da refuge, sos it wasn't all dat bad foah him."

"But den, in da beginnin' a' March, he starts gettin bad again," Racetrack replied. "Tings were startin' ta pick up again, but not by much. Moah people were startin' ta buy again, but it was still hahd foah all of us ta get a decent meal more than twice a week. Some of da luckia ones, like me an' Jack an' Mush, could afford ta go back ta da lodgin' house, but Boots still couldn't. Sos he stole again. Back in da refuge, dis time foah a month."

"He gets out, an' now it's mid-April, an' things are almost back ta like it was befoah ya left. But foah some reason, Boots snapped one day. Some guy didn't wanna buy a pape from him, an he attacked da guy."

"Boot attacked someone?" Rookie said, unable to hold in her surprise. Boots was one of the more docile of the group. For him to steal or attack anyone unless provoked was just out-of-character. Did she really drive him to that?

"Yeah, he did," Racetrack replied, his voice edged.

"All because of me," Rookie said, putting her head in her hands. "I'm such an ignoramus."

"What?" Racetrack asked her. "An igno-what?"

"An ignoramus," Rookie replied. "Basically, I just called myself an idiot."

"Can't argue wit ya dere, toots," Racetrack replied. "Not afta what ya did. Between you an' dis God-damned war."

"Which probably started because of me, right?" Rookie asked, her head still buried in her hands.

"Yoah thing wit Spot was a paht of it," he replied truthfully. "But not da whole reason."

"I am so sorry," Rookie said quietly. "I never meant for this to happen. I just ran, I didn't think. I was stupid. I am so, so sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," Racetrack dismissed. His tone was quiet, nearly as cautious as Rookie's.

An awkward silence fell in between them. Rookie just couldn't believe what had happened because of her. Boots doing a complete ninety-degree turn in behavior, and being a straw that broke the camel's back. She was the last straw, consequently causing the newsie war. It was only because Old Man Tibby came with their orders that she sat up. She gave Bear her portion of the food and water and delicately nibbled on hers.

"Sos," Racetrack spoke up suddenly, looking up and meeting Rookie's eyes. "Rook. Why didja come back?" Rookie put down her fork and took a sip of her water. She needed a moment to think about how she was going to reply to that question. Only one thought came to her mind, and she needed to say it in a way that portrayed her utmost sincerity.

"I couldn't see myself anywhere else, Racetrack," she replied quietly. She looked down and pushed a glob of mash potato around her plate. "When I read the paper saying that my uncle died…I made my decision. He had been my last option, I couldn't go back home. With Da-Suave here in the newsies, I couldn't have him, I would be alone. I would be married off to some stuck-up richie and be miserable for the rest of my life."

"Sos ya came ta da newsies?" Racetrack questioned. "What if we's didn't want ya back? What if we's toined ya away?"

"Race, it was a chance I was willing to take," she replied. "I had to try, and if I failed then I would try again. But by no means would I be going back to my family, I just couldn't. I knew that it wasn't going to be easy, and to be truthful, it hasn't been."

"Have ya told dis ta any a' da otha guys?" he asked her. Rookie shook her head. "Why not?"

"Nobody asked, so I didn't bother."

"Sos, I'm da foist ya had ta tell?"

Rookie shook her head. "You're the first I _wanted_ to tell, Race. I'm sorry for what happened to me, and I didn't mean to hurt you guys, especially those closest to me. You, Jack, Boots, Mush, Blink…I never meant for that to happen to you. I can't stop apologizing, I'm-"

"You can stop," Race said, putting his hand up. "I believe ya, yoah sorry." He tossed his money for the bill on the table and stood up. Rookie did the same. He stuck his hand out in front of him, and Rookie smiled. She took his hand and shook it. "Welcome back, Rook."

"Thanks, Race," she replied.

"You headin' back ta da lodgin' house?"

"No," she said, "I'm going to walk around for a little bit, but I'll see you back there, okay?"

"Okay," he said. As they made it out the door, he turned to her. "Be careful, this city ain't the place it used ta be, an' even den it wasn't so good."

"I will, thanks Racetrack," Rookie replied, pausing. "For everything." Racetrack nodded and the two went their separate ways. As they walked, Rookie was able to scratch Bear's ears. She had gotten so big, Rookie didn't think anyone would try and mess with her tonight.

Apparently, she thought wrong.

She was just about a block from the Lodging House, and she and Bear were taking a short cut through an alley. About halfway through, she heard footsteps behind her. They were close, and at first Rookie didn't think anything of it. But when she stopped, they stopped, and when she started again. Bear began walking lightly, her head down and her ear flattened. Rookie saw that her tail was up and wagging a warning.

"Good girl," she murmured as Bear began to growl and bark. It wasn't impressive, but Rookie hoped it was enough to scare off who was following her.

_Just keep walking_, she told herself firmly. _When you get to the street, yell loudly and run. Fast._ Rookie bit her lip nervously, not knowing how well she would do if a confrontation arose. She gulped, not wanting to think about what could happen if she was cornered or attacked. After all, this was war. She wasn't sure of the rules, but was pretty sure that newsies that skulked around in alleys at night didn't follow them. She wasn't even sure that whoever was following her was a newsie.

Just as she reached the end of the alley, two more people appeared in front of her. Judging by their attire, they were newsies. All three of them were girls, and all three of them had slingshots. _Brooklyn_, Rookie thought immediately.

"Deah me!" the girl who had followed her snarled. _Echo_, Rookie recognized. "What have we heah? Looks like little Rookie has lost her way." Rookie took a deep breath, but her insides were shaking.

"What do you want, Echo?" she asked, trying not to show her fear. Beside her, Bear began growling loudly, her back beginning to arch and her hair standing on end. Rookie could see the white of her teeth in the darkness.

"Oh, you've brought yoah pup," Echo said, ignoring Rookie's question. "Girls, take care a' da mutt." As the two girls advanced on Bear, Rookie stepped in between them.

"NO!" she yelled as loud as she could, at the top of her lungs. She grabbed Bear's collar and pulled her forward into a sprint. Not expecting the outburst and the rumbling reverberation off the walls, the two girls in front of her were momentarily hesitant. It gave Rookie and Bear just enough time to sprint out of the alley and down toward the lodging house.

Something sharp hit her in the back of the leg and she faltered. She didn't have to look back to know that she was being fired upon with rocks or marbles. Bear yelped and Rookie growled in anger. Attack her, sure. Attack her dog, and that was just low. So she dropped behind Bear's pace to form sort of a human shield. Three more pieces of ammunition hit her in the back and she cried out. One had been sharp, and she felt it had pierced the bare skin on the back of her neck.

One hit her in the head and she fell to the ground on her hands and knees, scraping the skin on her palms painfully. Bear stopped immediately, and they were both pelted by marbles and rocks. In an attempt to help her dog, she sprung back to her feet and the two began running once more. Rookie took most of the blows with cries of pain, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks from the stinging blows. One particularly good shot grazed her cheek, cutting the skin.

When they turned the corner down to the lodging house and the firing was halted, she heard Echo call the girls (Rookie heard their names as Charm and Caps) off. But Rookie didn't stop running. She didn't stop until she and Bear were in the lodging house with the door shut behind them. Rookie leaned up against the wall, ignoring the questions from Kloppman.

"Bear," she called her dog over. "Bear, come here, sweetie." The dog came to her owner, panting heavily. Rookie felt her shaking as she ran her hands over the dog's body, making sure that her poor pup wasn't bleeding. Bear licked Rookie's cheek, and when it stung Rookie realized she was bleeding. She suddenly became very aware of the aches and pains of her own body, and that not only her cheek was bleeding.

She felt where she had been hit in the neck. That too, was bleeding. She moved herself away from the wall and stuck her hand in the back of her shirt, feeling blood on her fingers on her shoulder blade and lower back. "I'll be God-damned," she murmured to herself. She used the wall to help herself up and walked toward the stairs.

"Everythin' all right there, Rookie?" he asked her. She nodded her head.

"Just got into a little scrap," she replied, panting nearly as hard as Bear was. "Just need to go clean up a little bit." Kloppman nodded his head, saying it would be best.

When she entered the bunk room, she didn't expect the reception she received. As soon as she closed the door behind her and turned to face the others, she was noticed. Suave came up to her in one swift motion, concern shining in his eyes. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and she winced. "Ow," she murmured, and Suave looked horrified.

"What happened?" Jack demanded as he walked over. He sidled Suave to the side and took Rookie by the upper arm. She hissed in pain, one of the rocks had pierced her skin there, too.

"I was jumped by Echo and these girls Charm and Caps," Rookie replied. "While I was walking home from Tibby's. They fired rocks and marbles at me with their slingshots." She felt Dawson stiffen beside her and she bit her lip.

"Brooklyn newsies?" Jack said. "Spot's gonna pay foah dis." Rookie remained silent as Jack walked away. He moved toward the door.

"Wheah ya goin' Cowboy?" Racetrack asked as Jack was halfway out.

"I gotta go tawk ta David," he replied.

"Let's get ya cleaned up, Rookie," Suave said gently, and moved her toward the washroom. Kid Blink was next to her in a second.

"What happened?" he asked. "Didja soak 'em?"

"No," Rookie replied sheepishly. "I didn't know what to do…I ran away." As they passed Rookie's bed, Rookie had Bear hop up and lay down. "And they just kept firing at me." Rookie explained the whole story while she cleaned her face off. When she had to get to the cuts she couldn't reach, she asked Sweetheart to help her. The two of them went into a toilet stall and Rookie removed her shirt, but covered her chest with it. Sweetheart gently cleaned her back up, a calming silence between them.

"Thank you," Rookie mumbled. Sweetheart left the stall and Rookie buttoned up her shirt. Suave walked over to her and put his forehead against hers as gently as possible.

"You should go lay down," he murmured.

"Only if you lay down with me," Rookie replied with a small smile. What she meant was him to just lean up against the wall on her bunk and she would lie against his chest in his lap. In this passed week, they gave each other time to reintroduce themselves, and in two or three days, things were just as they had been before. And they never did anything besides kiss or cuddle. Rookie was still a virgin, and she planned to be for a long while.

"Not tonight," he replied in his same murmur. He half-smiled, though Rookie could tell he was trying to be serious. She jutted out her bottom lip and pouted.

"Fine," she said in mock-offended tone. "I'll go all on my lonesome." Suave took her arm gently and pushed her out of view of the other newsies. He leaned down and kissed her very gently.

"Goodnight, and stop pouting," he told her. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him back.

"Goodnight," she said. Kissing him only once more, she then walked back to her bunk.

But she was not comfortable for long, because Jack came back into the bunkroom loudly about an hour later. She was awoken from her light slumber and looked up. He walked right over to her. "What happened when dey coinehed ya in da alley?" Rookie let a small sigh escape her lips as she repeated her story to Jack.

"Do ya remembah how ta fight?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"Not much," she told him truthfully. "That's why I ran."

"Well tahmarra yoah gonna loin, got it?" She nodded. "The city ain't a safe place foah a newsie who don't know how ta fight. I'll staht teachin' ya afta lunch." Rookie nodded again, noticing how much of it she had been doing over the passed week. She was slightly relieved that she'd have something to look for at lunchtime besides a growling stomach and a whining Bear.

"Get ta sleep," he told her as he stood up. She rolled over onto her side, wincing in pain as she rolled over cuts and bruises.

"Believe me," she whispered, trying to hide the affect of the soreness and pain in her voice. She closed her eyes and tried to relax her aching body. "I'm already half way there."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you like my latest chapter! A bit longer than the past few, which I am proud of. What did you think?**

**Once again, I am without a musical title for this chapter. Do any of you know any good songs that could fit with this chapter? If you do, _please_ add them in with your comments.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but Chapter Fifteen won't be out for a while. I'll be spending a week in Hawaii, starting this Friday. If I can, I'll try and get Chapter Fifteen up, but I'm not making any promises.**

**In the spirit of Hawaii, I give a big **mahalo** to the wonderful readers who commented on my last chapter. **CorruptMe**,** elleestJenn**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** AlaskaJenna**,** Spitfire42**,** IrishStorm**, **0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** Seren McGowan**,** ilovenewsies**,** wackydreams, Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** Dimonah Tralon**, and **Zoee **for your wonderful reviews on Chapter 13. And **Zoee**,** **I'll go back and make sure those errors are fixed. Thanks for catching what I didn't!**

**Much love, as always.**

**Aloha, Mahalo and goodnight!**

**xEquestriad**


	15. Hysteria

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Fifteen: Hysteria**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Bah._

_**

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**_

"Ow!" Rookie exclaimed, sitting up. She sat up too fast, not careful to check her the bunk height. She wound up hitting her head on a low plank. "Ow!" she exclaimed again. "Ow…" she whimpered, putting a hand on her forehead. Bear picked her head up and crawled over to Rookie, licking her cheek gently. Rookie looked on her lap, where a black shoe had landed on her stomach.

"Itey, I'm going to kill you," Rookie said, getting out of her bed and holding the shoe in her hand. She marched over to the half-naked Itey, who was laughing with Specs. "In your sleep. Slowly and painfully. With a smile on my face."

"You wasn't gettin up when Kloppman told ya to," Itey responded with a smirk. "Sos I helped the old guy out." Rookie shook her head and walked back to her bunk, mumbling about the stupidity of the male half of the human species.

"Relax, Rook," Suave said, coming up behind her and slipping his arm around her waist. "It was just a shoe." Rookie glared at him and slipped out of his arm.

"Sure," she said, jutting her lower lip out. "Side with them. You are such a guy."

"Are you pouting?" Suave observed with a crooked smirk.

"Poutin'? Rookie?" Crutchy piped in with a sarcastic smile. "Newsies ain't allowed ta pout, Rook."

"Oh shut up, the lot of you," Rookie snapped, shaking her head. She grabbed her clothes and walked into the washroom. In one of the bathroom stalls, she changed quickly and then went out to brush her teeth and wash her face.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror and sighed heavily. Thanks to Echo, she now had a thin scar across her cheek. The skin was smooth, and Jack said that he's had worse clear up in no time. It had been nearly a month, and Rookie was having a hard time believing him. They were in the middle of July now, and it still hadn't cleared up, and was still tender. She dabbed the cloth gently around it and smoothed over it, wincing slightly. It was just the same with the rest of her body. Echo and her friends really chose some sharp rocks to fire, because every cut they had inflicted became a scar. The bruises didn't heal for two weeks, and she had just stopped being sore roughly a week and a half ago.

Not to mention, fighting lessons with Cowboy ever afternoon had their complications. When she rolled up her sleeves to brush her teeth, milky-blue bruises were revealed, just healing. She was getting better, but in the beginning, she was making very good friends with the floor. But for the past week or so, she was able to get some punches in on Jack, but she was almost positive that he was going slow with her. But she was getting good at dodging, and that was a major plus. She didn't like tasting dirt every time Jack stuck his foot out.

Today, for some reason, was her testing day. To prove God-knew-what to Jack, she'd be fighting Shadow and then Kid Blink before lunch. In all truth, she was positively terrified.

_I'm such a baby_, she thought to herself as she began to brush her hair out. She knew they wouldn't seriously hurt her, but she was afraid of looking like an imbecile. _Or making friends with the dirt…again._ She sighed as she pulled her hair back into a low pony tail with a black ribbon.

"Rookie," she turned to see Suave calling her over. She smiled and walked over to him. He caught her by the hips and pulled her close.

"You look nervous," he observed wisely, kissing her forehead gently.

"I am nervous," she affirmed, closing her eyes as his lips left her forehead.

"Why?" He took her hand and they started their walk back down to the front. She whistled to Bear, and the pup hopped off the bed and trailed behind the two.

"Because I have to spar with Shadow _and _Kid Blink," she replied, biting her lip. "And I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die," he squeezed her hand gently as he said this. She squeezed his in return, glad to hear reassurance. "You'll have me there."

"To watch me die," she quipped, trying to lighten up. Very seriously now, he turned her to him and made eye contact with her.

"I would _never_ let you die," he told her, and kissed her lips. She smiled and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"I love you," she murmured as the broke. He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers.

"I love you, too." He kissed her again and then hugged her. "And there's no need to be nervous. You're only goin' to be sparrin', not fighting to the death." She smiled.

"I'm still nervous," she told him truthfully.

"I know," he replied, resting his chin on her forehead. "But you'll do fine. Everything that you learned back in January and everything that you've been learning will come right back to you and you'll do fine."

"And what if I don't do fine?" she questioned as they released from their embrace. He slipped his arm around her waist and she did the same to him.

"No one'll think any different of you," he replied. "I know I won't. And if you don't do good, well then you'll keep on practicing." She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You always know just what to say," she told him. "You're perfect."

"Oh hush," he told her. "Nobody's perfect."

"You are," she replied assuredly. "Perfect to me, anyway." He smiled and pulled her closer to him.

"You're perfect too, ya' know," he told her, and she laughed.

"You don't have to tell me that just because I told you," she said, a smile on her lips.

"I don't do anythin' I don't have to," he told her. "That's the honest truth."

Suave, Rookie and Bear waited patiently with Kloppman for the others to come down. Being earlier than the others was a usual occurrence for Suave and Rookie, because they wanted their time alone in the morning. And the only resolution was to get up and get ready quicker than the others. Even though this morning had a…rough start to it, she was still able to run through getting ready so the two of them could be together for a few minutes.

"I'm going to go get some quick practice in," Rookie said, hopping off her stool and pulling a wooden slingshot out of her pocket. Spot had given it to her many months ago, and she had left it under her mattress when she left. When Jack had mentioned learning how to fight, she also began to re-learn how to use her slingshot.

"Mind if I watch?" Suave asked her.

"Not at all," she replied.

The two walked out and Rookie picked up three cans and put them on three different crates with three different heights. One was taller than her, one was shorter, and one was about shoulder-height. She took a marble out of her pocket and strung her slingshot, walking back to a spot about ten feet away. She aimed, stretched the sling out a few times and then began to set up for the shot, steadying her arm.

"_**Now ya gotta close one eye sos ya can see betta." **_Rookie almost jumped when she heard the voice in her mind. Not just any voice, _his_ voice. Spot's voice. She bit her lip and tried to focus, though she followed the instruction she had forgotten and closed her one eye. _**"Now shoot."**_ it sounded as if he had whispered in her ear. It sent shivers up her spine, and sent her head spinning. She had been practicing with her slingshot. Why did her stupid memory decide to pull Spot up this morning when Suave was watching?

"_**Now shoot."**_ Following her memory of Spot's instructions, she focused hard on her target and released the sling. The marble flew forward and crashed into the can, sending the piece of thin metal into the brick wall behind it.

"Nice shot!" Suave congratulated. "Took ya a while, though." He added the second part on jokingly, but Rookie felt guilty. Why was she thinking of Spot _now_, when she had Suave standing right there. Her absolutely perfect man, standing behind her, applauding her lucky shot. Rookie thanked him with a smile and took two more shots and the two other cans. While she hit the lower target perfectly, she clipped the top of the can that was set highest, only knocking it over.

"You're gettin really good," Suave praised. Rookie looked back at him and smiled before going to collect her marbles. When they were all collected, she put them in her pocket, as well as her slingshot. She walked over to Suave and hugged him around his middle. He hugged her back and rocked on his feet a little bit.

"I've been thinking about March," he murmured in her ear, and she looked up at him, confused. He dipped down and kissed her jaw, close to her ear. "In the carriage." The whisper was so soft, so gentle, yet very appealing. Her cheeks flushed and smiled. Images of that day came flashed through her mind and she wound up giggling softly.

"That was a _very_ nice afternoon," she said pulling her head away from his lips.

"We could have a very nice afternoon today," he murmured, looking down at her.

"Yes, I will look positively gorgeous covered in dirt, bruises and blood," she replied sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at him. He looked at her very seriously and cupped her head in his hands.

"No matter what," he whispered rather quickly, as they could both hear the others rushing down the stairs. "You are always beautiful. To me, too the world. Never forget that." She smiled and took one of his hands in her own. She brought it up to her lips and kissed it gently. "I love you." He told her in a murmur, and looked straight into her eyes.

"I love you, too," she murmured, so that the others -who were assembling just off the front door- couldn't hear.

"Yo love-boids!" Racetrack called with a wide smirk. Some of the others snickered as Suave and Rookie's heads snapped away from each other's faces and to the group. "Ya gonna sell papes or what?" Rookie and Suave both smirked at each other and they turned toward the group.

"Keep your cigar in your mouth, Race," Suave called. "We'll catch up." Race waved and he and the others followed Jack out of the alley. Suave looked back to Rookie. "This afternoon?"

"I can't, Suave," she replied. She down at Bear, who was loyally sitting at her feet. "I've got to make enough money so that I can ensure a good meal for Bear and I. And today, a lunch as well. I'm sure I'm going to be starving after the 'test' today."

"How bout I buy your lunch so you can have money for dinner?" Suave offered. "I've got some saved up-"

"No thank you, Suave," she told him. "I would never ask you to do something like that for me. It's too much money that you nor I have."

"You didn't ask," Suave replied with a smile. "I asked you."

"And I said no," Rookie replied.

"Then I'll tell you," he resolved. "I will buy you and Bear lunch if you spend the afternoon with me, just me."

"Suave-"

"Don't you want to?" he asked. "I know we haven't done anything like that in months, but I-"

"It'snotthat," she told him quickly. "I just don't like being bought like that."

"I'm not buying you, I'm trying to get you to see that I'll do _anything_, even pay a little extra money for lunch, to have some alone time with you. Please, Rookie. What time, besides our mornings, have we actually spent together? We used to spend whole days together."

Rookie remained silent for a few minutes in thought. "Fine," she replied with a smile. "We'll have the afternoon to ourselves. But I am paying you back, mister. Deal?"

"Deal," Suave replied, though Rookie would later learn that he had absolutely no intention of taking any money what-so-ever from her.

The three jogged to the nun's cart, just in time to catch up with the rest of the newsies before they left. "What took ya so long?" Kid Blink asked, elbowing Suave in the side suggestively. "Havin' a little too much fun?" Rookie took her hat off and smacked Blink in the side with it.

"Hey!" he said. "I was just kidding."

"Sure, sure," Rookie replied, narrowing her eyes playfully. "You just wanted all the juicy little details."

"Somethin' happened?" he asked.

"Maaaaybe," Rookie replied, drawing out the word a little bit. Suave repressed a chuckle and covered his mouth with his fist, forcing a cough to hide it. Kid Blink made a face between interest and disgust and went to get his helping of bread. Rookie took her hat off respectively like the others, got her piece of bread and cup of water. She split the bread in half and gave the other piece to Bear, then took a big gulp of water and gave the rest to her eager dog.

"I still don't like how you do that, Rookie," Suave mentioned as she gave the cup back to the nuns.

"And I still don't care what you or anyone else thinks about the matter," Rookie replied, instantly annoyed by Suave's statement. She was tired of people complaining on how she put her dog before her. But she did regret her words. "I mean, I do care that you care, but I'm not going to change."

"And I'm not going to stop telling you how much I disapprove," Suave countered.

"Fine," Rookie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Just don't get offended when I snap at you, please? It's kind of an automatic reaction now."

"I'll try," Suave replied with a smile as they started toward the distribution center. "But I'm not making any promises."

"Sounds good enough to me." When the newsies reached the center, they all lined up for their papers.

"How's the headline, Jack?" called Skittery from the middle of the line. Jack, who was always first in line, replied, "So-so."

"Fiyah at Elis Island, but nothin' serious," he said, scanning the paper. "Nothin' spectaculah, but it's gonna sell all right." Because of Jack's 'test' this afternoon at noon and the so-so headlines, I only took forty papers. Whatever I didn't sell I would sell back to the distribution center. Part of the terms to end the strike last summer.

"See you later, Suave," Rookie said as they walked out of the center. Rookie would be heading to Central Park, while Suave would be going to Broadway. They kissed briefly and then turned in their separate directions, each taking the fastest route to their selling points.

"Elis Island in flames!" she hawked as she walked down the street. "No count in how many dead!"

**&---&**

Rookie groaned as she got up to her feet and went back to circling with Kid Blink. Her eyes were focused completely on him, though her ears caught some the conversations that the newsies watching were in the middle of. And suddenly, as she got distracted by a conversation about Racetrack's bum toe, Kid Blink lunged at her. She narrowly dodged to the side in time. She was tired from this spar and her previous spar with Shadow.

At that moment, for some reason unknown reason to Rookie, time slowed down. She saw Kid Blink pass her, but it was like he was crawling rather than lunging. In what must have been a split-second, she made her decision of attack. She lunged at him, while he was still out-of-stride from her dodge.

Time sped up back to normal as she landed on his back awkwardly, wrapping her legs around his middle, grabbing his shoulders and throwing all her weight onto her right side, where Kid Blink was mid-step. With a yell of surprise, he fell to the ground. They both hit the cobblestone with a '_thud'_. Rookie unwrapped her legs and swung them around, using them as an anchor to keep Kid Blink pinned to the ground.

"Rookie wins," Jack declared smoothly. Rookie rolled off of Kid Blink, shaking. She was excited, but she couldn't believe it. She had nearly been destroyed by Shadow, but by one stupid move she had taken down Blink. She stood up and held her hand out for Blink. He took it and she helped him stand.

"It was just a lucky trick," Rookie said when he was on his feet. "You would have won if it wasn't for that."

"Don't say that, Rook," Jack intervened. "Dat was smarts. Not all fightin' is muscle. Ya gotta have a half a brain. Yous got moah den half a' one. A smart trick, but it ain't always gonna woik." Rookie nodded and smiled, nearly beaming at Jack's praise.

"Yeah, Rookie," Kid Blink said, causing her to turn to him. "That was a great spar." He spit into his hand and held it out. Rookie did the same, trying to hold in the feeling of disgust. A commotion down the block gave her the perfect opportunity to wipe her hand on her pant leg. Suave, who had found his way to her side to congratulate her noticed and chuckled.

"Oh hush," she mumbled to him. The two ignored what the others were gawking at as they caught each other's eyes. Rookie saw them moving away out of her peripheral vision, but focused on Suave.

"Want to catch some lunch and then start our afternoon plans?" Suave asked her. His eyes darted from her eyes to his lips. Rookie knew that he wanted to be alone for once, but a shout from the crowd caught her attention.

"Rookie!" Racetrack called. "Get ovah heah." She smiled weakly to Suave and turned jogging over to the them. When she got to them, she saw him.

"Boots," she choked. He was staring straight at her. And yet, there was an absence of anger, of resentment. He just stared. His dark brown eyes collided with her green, and she stayed glued to her spot. It was one of the most awkward moments she had been faced with. She had no idea what to say or how to say it, and she didn't know what the first words out of his mouth would be.

"Rookie," he replied smoothly. She couldn't read his tone, or his facial expression. It had only been a little over a half a year since she had last seen him and yet he looked aged. He was fifteen, but he could have been older. Severe poverty and the Refuge had done him no good.

"Can I talk to you, Rookie?" he asked her. "Privately."

"Sure," she replied, perhaps a little to hastily. She wanted everything to be okay between them, but she didn't know how that would work. The Boots she remembered was patient and forgiving, but she didn't know what to expect after the months they hadn't seen each other. Rookie looked back at Suave and mouthed _"I have to do this."_ He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair.

The two walked with about a foot in between them. They just walked for a few minutes, settling into each other's company. Bear stayed on Rookie's right side, the opposite of Boots. To busy herself, Rookie just ran her fingers through the dog's fur.

Boots stopped suddenly, and so did Rookie. "When did you come back?" he asked her.

"June twenty-fifth," she replied.

"Why?"

Rookie took a deep breath and explained what she had to the rest of the newsies the night Jack found her on the roof. She told him about South Carolina (and included Dawson-Suave in her tale). She explained the night of the fire, struggling to hold back tears at that portion. Boots nodded through it and then repeated his question, the same question that Racetrack had asked her weeks before.

"But why did you come back to the newsies?" She told him, almost word for word of what she said to Racetrack.

"This is my home," she concluded. "I couldn't see myself anywhere else."

"Then why did you leave?"

"I don't know," Rookie replied. "What Spot said…I don't know why I listened to him. I don't know why I believed him. I don't know why I let it get to my head and I don't know why I didn't just walk back into the Lodging House. _I don't know why_, but I did."

"Did you love him?"

"I think so."

"And now?"

"I love Suave."

Silence.

"And you plan on staying with the Newsies?" he asked finally. "Not runnin' back to yoah family."

"I'm Rookie now, I don't have any family besides you newsies." Boots smiled and held out his hand.

"Welcome back, Boots," she said with a careful smile.

"Welcome back, Rookie," he replied. "Walk me to the distribution center? I've got to pick up on the afternoon edition."

"Sure," she replied.

They walked along in a content silence. There was the tiniest bit of tension between them, but not much. Rookie was lucky that the Manhattan newsies were filled with amazing people. Amazing, forgiving people. She thanked God as she walked. Surely, she would not get this second chance if she was a Brooklynite or a Queens Newsies or from the Bronx.

They were just reaching the distribution center when I recognized Runner sprinting toward us. Her name fit her splendidly, she was standing in front of us in mere moments. "What's wrong?" Rookie questioned as soon as the other newsie came to a stop. Her expression was worried, frantic.

"Sp-Spike was killed," she said, panting slightly.

"Patrick-Spike?" Rookie asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, dat one," she replied.

"When?" Boots asked immediately. Obviously, Patrick -er- Spike was well known around.

"Not even an hour ago," Runner replied. "Flower from Queens just told Jack. He told me to find you two and bring you guys back to the Lodging House."

"W-where was he killed?" Rookie nearly choked. Patrick had shown her much kindness when she ran into him. He had even offered to escort her through to Manhattan! He helped her escape, and kept her secret.

"Queens," Runner replied and turned around, motioning for them to follow her. Boots and Rookie did, Bear close at her heels.

"In broad daylight?" Rookie questioned. Runner nodded.

"Dis is a war, Rookie," she replied. "An' he shouldn'ta been in Queens. That's off-limits to Brooklynites."

"Brooklynite?" Rookie asked, only slightly startled.

"Yeah," Runner replied with a nod. "Spot's cousin, in fact." I took a deep intake of breath.

"Shit," she swore, allowing her lips to slip a vulgarity.

"Exactly," Boots replied. "He ain't gonna be to happy when he heahs. The guy who did it's gonna be woise den dead."

"I can imagine," Rookie replied with a nod of her head, though she was pretty sure that if she ever came face-to-face with his murderer, one of the guys would have to hold her back. She didn't know him particularly well, but he helped her too much to deserve a street-fight related death.

"It might even cause a full-fledged attack," he continued. "An' we'll be pulled in coz we's allies wit Queens." Rookie nodded, understanding. She had once had a conversation with her father about wars, and how alliances could either make or break a war.

"_**You have to watch who your allies with, Brooklyn,"**_ he explained to her one evening as the sat in the library. **_"If you ally yourself with a weak, hostile country, you're going to be pulled into a senseless war and you'll lose. But, if you ally yourself with someone strong and not so quick to declare war, you've got a much better chance of not getting yourself and your people into a rut. And, if the case of war arises, then you have a better chance of winning."_**

Rookie wondered what kind of ally Queens was.

**&---&**

Apparently, they were the good kind of allies. When Spot declared war on Manhattan, they were quick to come to the aid. Unfortunately, the Bronx was also a good ally to Brooklyn, and the other boroughs and groups decided to stay neutral. Skittery explained to her that when the main boroughs were pitted against each other, nobody wanted to interfere unless they were brought in.

Jack explained that because Brooklyn was going to go after Queens, they would go after Manhattan, as well. He told them that from now on, he wanted everyone selling in pairs. There were loud complaints, but he didn't care. It was an order.

"I ain't gonna let none a' my newsies get hoit," he told them. "You decide not ta listen an' get hoit or killed, it ain't no one's problem butya own." Rookie, who was standing next to Suave, intertwined her fingers in his hand.

"Talker's gonna be ovah heah soon ta discuss a plan," Jack said next. Talker, I had learned from Racetrack, was the leader of Queens. "I want all ya' ta stay close in, gottit? Just in case anythin happens. Fahthest ya go is Tibby's." All the newsies agreed.

"Let's go get our lunch and bring it back here," Suave suggested. "Before word gets to Brooklyn."

"Will it get there that fast?" she asked him as they trotted down the stairs.

"Spot has spies all of New York," he replied. "Not to mention, nothin' stays quiet hear for long. I figure they'll know by nightfall."

"Maybe we better get dinner too, then," Rookie mused.

"Mmm," Suave replied. "And save it for later. Not a bad idea."

The two walked to Tibby's as quickly as possible. Poor Old Man Tibby was being rushed around by them, plus Kid Blink, Racetrack and Skittery, who had walked in only about a minute after Suave, Rookie and Bear.

When they got their food (in a little cardboard box), they left quickly. As they walked, Rookie's stomach grumbled and Bear whined for food. There was a commotion when they arrived at the Lodging House, and several newsies Rookie didn't know were talking with Jack. She suspected them to be the Queens newsies.

"Let's eat on the roof," Rookie suggested. "Leave Jack and the Queens newsies to their business." Also, a part of her was afraid that Patrick's killer was there. If he was, she didn't know if she would be able to keep herself controlled. Suave looked hesitant. "_Please,_" she added, and he nodded.

When they got up there, they pulled out their lunches. Three turkey sandwiches. One for Suave, one for Rookie, and one -of course- for Bear. For the most part, they ate in silence.

"I don't think that your 'test' today was irrelevant," Suave spoke up suddenly. Rookie looked to him and raised an eyebrow. "I think that it was completely relevant to what's going on. Ya' know, the war and everything."

"Of course it's about the war, Suave," Rookie replied, slightly confused about the outburst. "A newsie has to know how to take care of his or herself."

"No, that's not what I mean," Suave continued. "I mean that I think Jack knew something like this was going to happen. I think he knew that we would have a big battle comin' up, and that he'd need every able newsie."

"Who could predict something like this?" Rookie replied, taking another bite of her sandwich. She chewed slowly, watching Suave carefully.

"Not this exactly," he replied. "But somethin' that would lead to a big conflict. I think he wanted to make sure that if we went into a battle that you'd be able to take care of yourself." He paused and made eye contact with her. "But Rookie, if there is to be a giant battle, I don't want you to be a part of it."

"Suave, I can't promise that," she replied. "If Jack gives me the order to fight, I have to."

"I'll talk to him," Suave replied.

"But if he needs _everyone_ that is able, then I will have to help," Rookie replied.

"But you could stay back and-"

"Watch the young ones? Suave, they can watch themselves. Besides, how would it look if I abandoned them in battle. They're my family now, and I have to be loyal to them."

"But if you can, if you are able to," Suave said. "Will you stay back here at the Lodging House or where it's safe? Please? For me, for my piece of mind please?" Rookie sighed and began pulling at her ponytail.

"You know I can't promise that," she said quietly.

"Please, Rookie."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises like that." She looked down and bit her lip before looking back to Suave. "You have to understand that I would do anything for them. And I have to make up for-"

"You don't have to make up for anything!" Suave protested.

"Yes, I do, Suave," Rookie replied. "I know that some of them still don't trust me. I know that I have to prove that I am worthy to be welcomed back. I have to gain their trust back, right now it's the most important thing in the world to me that they accept me."

"Even more important than me?" Suave questioned, looking over to the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Never," Rookie replied, moving closer to him. He turned his head, so their noses were only inches apart. He lifted a hand up and placed it gently on her cheek.

"Then please prom-"

"Please don't ask me to, Suave," Rookie pleaded. "I love you, I do. I love you, I love you, I love you. And if you love me, you have to understand why I can't promise you that." She leaned forward and kissed him gently, and he returned the gesture.

"I won't press you on it anymore," Suave told her. "But you have to think about it, consider it."

"I'll think about it," Rookie promised.

**&---&**

"Rookie!" a harsh whisper brought Rookie out of her slumber abruptly, and as she was about to yell at whoever had woken her, a hand covered her mouth. When her eyes focused, she saw that it was Jack.

"Are you crazy?" she whispered to him.

"I've been teachin' ya how ta fight good, right?" he asked her, ignoring her question. She nodded. "An' Spot tawt ya how ta use a slingshot, right?" Once again, she nodded. "Have ya been practicin'?" She nodded again. "How good are you?"

"Pretty decent, I hit almost all my targets in some way, shape or form," she replied. Jack nodded.

"Good." He grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her out of bed. "Don't make a sound an' leave yoah dog. We's goin' ta Brooklyn wit Queens. We's goin ta fight." Rookie nodded, and her stomach began to twist and turn into a knot. Going to Brooklyn. To fight? And they were bringing her?

She remained silent and slipped her red shirt over her night shirt, buttoning it up quickly. She had Bear stay on the bed and grabbed her slingshot with her three marbles. She would pick up rocks and bottle caps and such on the way to Brooklyn.

"We's goin' ta ambush 'em," Jack explained quietly as they walked down the stairs. "Befoah they can come at us. Get 'em while they're down." Rookie nodded, though she didn't like the tactic. Especially since it was Spot's cousin who died.

"Stay wit Racetrack," he told her, shoving her in his direction. "Don't tell anyone else yoah heah, we don't want anyone gettin upset." He meant Suave. Obviously, he had tried to convince Jack that Rookie wasn't suited to fight. Obviously, he failed.

The walk to Brooklyn was nerve-racking. Rookie was suddenly aware of every bone in her body, and was terrified that she would walk away from this fight broken, or quite possibly not walk away at all. But Racetrack informed her that she would be placed on a fire escape with her slingshot, and she would just be firing at the Brooklyn newsies, to get them a little confused. Knowing this only made her more nervous. She had never shot in the dark before, what if she hit someone from Manhattan?

It was eerily silent in the group. The calm before the storm. They met up with Queens at the Brooklyn Bridge, and the whole mob moved together as one. The adrenaline started pumping in Rookie's veins, and she was becoming quite frightened of the whole idea. She didn't like it one bit, not one bit at all.

"Climb up dere," Racetrack instructed when they got to the fighting area. It would be right outside the lodging house. They would lure the Brooklynites out and then attack, and in Rookie's case, fire. Rookie positioned herself at the edge of the fire escape to some factory. She emptied her pockets of her marbles and the stones she had been able to collect on the way there.

Jack and Talker began singing loudly, the rest of the newsies joining in. It was the pirate song, except instead of it being "A pirate's life for me", they put in the words "A newsie's life for me." An interesting tactic, no doubt, but it worked.

Spot emerged from the back, his whole army of Brooklynites following him. Even in the darkness, she could see the fire in his eyes, the fire in all of their eyes. They were unfazed at the size of their opponents, they marched out gallantly. A few words were said between leaders.

It begun.

Rookie began firing towards the Brooklynites. She was rather proud of herself, because she was hitting most of her targets. And if she didn't hit her target, she hit the person next to them which was just as good. But when everyone was engulfed in hand-to-hand combat, it became increasingly difficult to aim and fire correctly and efficiently. Too soon, she was out of ammunition. So she sat on her fire escape, hidden by darkness, waiting.

Suddenly, a retreat of the Manhattan and Queens newsies was called. Quickly, Rookie ran down the stairs and began climbing down the ladder. She was just hanging from the bottom rail, about to jump down and make a run for it, when something hard took out her legs and ripped her away from the metal bars. They landed on the ground with a deafening, painful _thud_ and Rookie moaned in pain.

"Not gettin' away dis time, Rookie," snarled the unforgettable voice of Echo. Rookie struggled away from her grip and was able to stand up.

"What is your problem, Echo?!" she exclaimed as she dodged punches. "I accidentally hit you with a rock six months ago! It's time to forget the past." Echo laughed cruelly as she hit Rookie in the stomach and Rookie doubled over. Echo was able to punch her in the temple, and Rookie fell over. Echo kicked her again in the stomach. Rookie could taste blood in her mind.

"Silly Rookie," Echo said, pulling Rookie to her feet and throwing her against the alley wall. "Thinkin' it's still bout da rock. Nope, it's bout something much moah serious then a silly bump on the head." While Echo was momentarily distracted by a thought, Rookie was able to throw a left hook into Echo's cheek.

Echo didn't like that.

Echo nearly destroyed Rookie. She was stronger and faster than Rookie, and was able to dodge and block nearly all of Rookie's attacks and then counter them with ten times the intensity Rookie had given. Rookie was thrown into the brick wall several times, punched in the face, forehead, and gut. After a while, it just stopped hurting, and Rookie gave up. She fell to the ground against the wall and lay there. Blow after blow she received, but she could no longer feel the pain, as her body was erupting it.

"It's about you fuckin' round wit Spot's head," Echo spat, sending a particularly hard kick into Rookie's back as she lay on the ground. "Doity, rotten whore." With one last good kick to the stomach, Echo spat on the ground next to Rookie's head.

Rookie couldn't move, she couldn't speak. She couldn't comprehend Rookie's words, she couldn't think at all. She just laid there, pain pulsing through her, absorbing any adrenaline that might have attempted to hide it for a minute or so.

Rookie moaned, and her eyes closed. As she lay there, she wondered if she would welcome dying right there in that dingy little alley, if death beckoned her. She wondered if it would be a relief or a pain. She wondered if she should just give up.

Suddenly, she could not hear, she could not open her eyes. Her body went numb and stiff. The constant expanding and fading of her chest with each jagged intake of breath was the only sign of life. She fell in complete darkness and she was at peace.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note**:

**No, she's not dead.**

**I was able to get this last one in before Hawaii. I hope you enjoyed! Please excuse any silly mistakes. It's about 1:50 in the AM right now.**

**This chapter is named after the background music to Muse's "Hysteria".**

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. I would name you, but I haven't the time as I'm leaving in about ten minutes and I have rush some last minute things together.**

**Aloha and Mahalo!**

**xEquestriad**


	16. Almost Lover

-1Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Sixteen: Almost Lover**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Meh._

**Author's Note:**** I'm just warning you now, so you don't kill me later. Spot's a wee bit Bipolar in this chapter, and can be a severe asshole. Just warning you.**

_**&xxx&**_

**xSpot's P.**

He. Was. Pissed. First, they kill Spike. Now, they attack him while he and his newsies are sleeping. Not only that, but they bring Manhattan along for the fight. Many emotions were pulsing through him. Anger, sadness, mourning, sick to his stomach, confusion, aching, vengeance. He needed to take a walk.

Spot left the Lodging House without a word to anyone. All of his newsies were sleeping in late this morning. Bruised, battered and bloodied, they needed time to recover before the Brooklynites took action. Striker, the leader of the Bronx newsies, would be visiting at noon to discuss their next action of defense or offence. Either way, there would be action.

He rounded an alley corner and wound up stopping short. Two figures, large men in battered, over-large clothing (clothing that was in was in worse condition than most street-rats) stood over a body. The body he could barely see. Black pants on skinny legs and a pair of black shoes. But he saw the look in their eyes as they stared at it. Longing, hunger, lust. Spot's blood pressure rose and he clenched his fists. But, he remained quiet. With much difficulty, he watched them taunt the body on the floor. He just had to wait for the opportune mo-

"Get away from me!" the voice belonging to the body on the floor exclaimed as one of the men reached down to grab her, cutting off Spot's thought process. Even though her voice was hoarse and cracked, he recognized it within moments. His thoughts went up in flames and he became blinded to the world outside the alley. He could only focus on three things.

One: 'The body' in the alley was Rookie.

Two: The two men had the intention of abducting and raping her.

Three: Those two men were going to die.

**xRookie's P.**

The first thing to escape Rookie's lips was a groan of pain. Her eyelids felt like sheets of lead. Her body ached all over. She felt as if her bones had been replaced with bricks and that her head was filled with rocks, she couldn't move it. When she tried, hwer neck gave way and her head rolled down, her chin touching her collarbone. Eyes still closed, she became aware of every part of her body. She was leaned against a brick wall, propped up awkwardly on her spine and pelvis. Her arms were at her sides, her legs out in front of her.

She heard the shuffling of feet and harsh whispers in front of her. Male voices. They sounded very matured in age, deep and raspy. They words, still incomprehensible to Rookie, dripped with a mocking tone. Rookie could practically feel her blood pumping through her veins as fear kicked in.

"What do we's got heah?" one of the voices commented, becoming comprehendible to her. She heard two pairs of feet shuffle toward her.

"Look at this lil' miss we's got heah," a second voice piped in. "A pretty lil' thing, ain't she. Or, she was, befoah she got beat up."

"We's could make her feel bettah," the first replied with a hint of malice in his voice.

"Her legs would feel a lot woise though, huh?" the second added, cackling maliciously.

"Yeah," the first Attacker agreed. "Now c'mon, let's get her up an' we's can bring her back ta da shack."

Blood started pumping adrenaline furiously through Rookie's veins, and the pain began to evaporate. She felt herself take a huge gulp of air. Despite the adrenaline, a sharp pain dug into her side, right in her ribcage. _Oh no_, she thought rapidly. _Bruised, broken or cracked._ She began to take short, sharp intakes of breaths to prevent her lungs from pushing against her ribs.

A hand brushed her cheek and suddenly, what little strength she had flew to her eyes. They snapped open to see a pair of brown eyes with small beady pupils staring at her. His face was grubby, and he outstretched his hands toward her, as if to grab her and scoop her up like a child. She let out a raspy cry.

"Get away from me!" She almost croaked the words out, and the only response she received from the Attackers was a cruel laugh from each of them.

"Our lil' sleepin' beauty 'as awakened," the Attacker who stood closest to her said with a yellow-toothed smile. "Time ta go, sweethaht." The Attacker went to grab er again, but he didn't get the chance.

Rookie was knocked back against the wall as someone flew into the Attacker. As Rookie's head hit the wall, pain returned and her eyes closed. She was reduced to the strength of her sense of hearing.

"Ya lousy bastards!" a third voice screamed. Rookie took a sharp intake of breath and wound up groaning in pain in result. It was Spot. Her savior was Spot. "Don'tcha even think about touchin' her!"

"Looks like we's found his goil," one of the Attackers sneered, and then Rookie heard a malicious laugh. "Looks like someone else found her foist. I wonda who da lucky guy was who got her-" His sentence was cut off, and what he had said left Rookie shaking. What they were planning…what they would have done to her…what could have happened.

She forced the thought out of her mind and forced her eyes open.

What she saw made her want to close her eyes, but she couldn't pull them away. Spot had his cane out, his hat off and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He easily maneuvered around the Attackers, striking them with his cane as if using his sword. He would let them catch him briefly, then leap away and strike them harder. He toyed with them as a cat might if faced with two lonely mice.

Amongst the fight, somehow Spot was able to see Rookie watching. The Attackers were slowing down, and Spot's blows were coming faster and harder.

"Close yoah eyes!" Spot yelled. Rookie hesitated momentarily, wondering why he was having her shut her eyes. It was then she saw Spot raise his cane, aiming for one of the Attacker's throat. In that moment, she understood.

Spot was aiming to kill.

Rookie gasped -again groaning in pain- and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the brick wall, working very hard to block out the yells of pain coming from the Attackers and the loud _'thwap!'_ of the Spot's cane. She wished she had enough strength to bring her hands to her ears and cover them.

But in a moment, the alley went silent save the sound of Spot's labored breath and Rookie's sharp intakes. A harsh coughing was heard, and it was neither Spot's nor Rookie's. Rookie heard him make a move in the direction she had last seen one of the Attackers, and her body tensed, causing her an immense amount of pain.

"Don't kill him!" she found herself exclaiming. She didn't know why she said it, she just did. Was she aware that the Attacker could have easily killed her? Absolutely. But he didn't, and she didn't plan on ever crossing paths with him again. But that wasn't the only reason. To see with her own eyes, to have ocular proof that Spot could kill a human being with only his hands and a cane would be horrifying. Even though she didn't have the best opinion of Spot already, she didn't want it to worsen.

"Are ya kiddin' me?" she heard Spot mutter, and heard a sharp _'twack' _of a cane to follow it. "He's just knocked out, happy?" Rookie forced herself to open her eyes and watched him approach her. He was studying her carefully.

"Get up," he told her in a quiet, commanding tone. She looked at him and just stared. She didn't give any indication that she had heard him or that she was going to comply. She tried, she really did. She picked up her arms and tried to work through the pain. She felt she was going to split in half as she tried to force her body to bring herself to her feet.

Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted. Spot had grabbed her by the shirt and suspenders and picked her up. "What are ya doin' heah?" he demanded as he placed her upright on her feet. She shrunk away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, and nearly howled as pain rattled her. Was it rude and ungrateful, since he had just saved her life? Yes. But it was also rude to pick her up by her suspenders.

"What are ya doin' heah?" he growled again as he pushed her back out towards the street. "If anybody else had found ya, ya woulda been dead!" Rookie didn't reply, she just held back tears as shooting pain ran through her with each step.

"Can you stop pushing and pulling me?" she asked him, rubbing her sides gently. "If you couldn't tell, I'm in pain. A lot of it, and I can thank your little-" she stopped herself mid-sentence. She didn't want to be a baby and rat Echo out. That would just get the overly-violent newsie more angry with Rookie if she got in trouble with Spot again. So she stopped and began checking to see if anything else was broken.

Her ankle hurt, and it was swollen. She suspected she twisted it when Echo had pulled her down from the fire escape. The sound of her head hitting the ground reverberated in her mind and she winced as she placed a hand to her head. A nice, round bruise was apparent, and her hat (which had magically stayed on her head) and a bit of her hair had dried blood on it. She looked over her arms and legs, she was very badly bruised. She remembered Echo kicking her stomach and back.

Even though Spot was mere steps away, curiosity overtook her and she opened the bottom of her shirt. "Holy shit," she heard Spot say as she took a sharp intake of breath and hissed in pain when shooting pain ran through her ribs. Dark, black, blue, and red marks nearly covered her pale skin all over her middle. She closed her eyes and felt tears run down her cheeks. Being very aware that Spot was still standing there, she closed up her shirt and gently wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.

"I have to go," she murmured and started to walk away, pain shooting through her body with each rushed step.

"Hey, waita second," Spot said and Rookie heard him walk up next to her. "Ya think ya can just go walkin' tru Brooklyn?"

"I can try," Rookie replied quietly, trying not to use much breath.

"An' if onea' my newsies sees ya? Do ya think they'll let ya pass?"

"Maybe." She was keeping her responses short so she wouldn't need much breath. But what Spot had said about getting through Brooklyn, he was right. If she did run into one of his newsies -namely, Echo- she would probably not live to see Manhattan again. But if that meant being relieved of the pain that racked her body, then it didn't look like such a horrible risk.

"Not likely, since yoah a goil an' everythin', it's only right if I gotta walk ya ta da end a' da Bridge," was Spot's reply, and Rookie looked over to him, which hurt her neck. She quickly brought it back and looked straight ahead, rubbing the back of her neck gently. Even that hurt, and she mumbled an "Ow" under her breath.

A few minutes passed in silence. The tension was thick between them, and could easily be sliced with a knife. All Rookie could think about was the pain that tore through her and how much she wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and just stay there for hours, days, or weeks. Each step hurt her ankle, and each intake of breath hurt her ribs. She didn't know what she was going to do about them, and she wouldn't know what to do until she got back to Manhattan.

Manhattan. She began to wonder how they were reacting to her disappearance. Suave would no doubt be furious with Jack, and Jack would be formulating a plan to go retrieve her, dead or alive, which would no doubt make Suave more angry and more nervous. She groaned out loud, and then hissed in pain as another shock was delivered to her middle.

"Were you at da fight last night?" Spot asked when Rookie had managed to cover the pain up and cease her outward display of pain.

"Yes," was her only reply. She wanted just to nod, but she feared that any inclination of her head and her neck would snap.

"You really got beat up, huh?"

"Obviously," she snapped, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"You okay?" This comment surprised Rookie, but moreover made her angrier with him. In her opinion, it was a very stupid question. Was she just wincing, groaning and hissing for the fun of it? Did she paint the bruises on her skin, and did she _want _to be almost abducted and raped? Did he really have to ask that question?

"What do you think, Spot?" she asked him nastily.

"Christ, relax, Rookie," he replied, his tone gaining a defensive edge. He was done being patient and attempting to be friendly. "I was just-"

"Why do you care?" she snapped, silencing him. She closed her eyes, trying to blink back tears. Why hadn't Echo killed her last night? Why had Spot, of all people, have to come and find her? Why was God deciding that it was her turn to be tortured? She stopped herself in that last thought. _God doesn't put anything on you that you can't handle,_ she reminded herself. She sighed quietly. "Though I don't think I can handle this much longer." She wound up mumbling those words out loud, something she hadn't planned to do.

"What?" Spot asked. Out of her peripheral, she saw him look over.

"Nothing," she replied shortly.

"Oh."

The silence continued, and Rookie felt relief when she saw the Brooklyn Bridge come into view. She would only have to deal with Spot for a little while longer. Hopefully, one of the Manhattan newsies would be out and they would be able to help her back to the Lodging House. She didn't believe that she could make it back by herself. The only reason she was actually making herself stand and walk was because Spot was there, and she didn't want to look weak in front of him. The weak Rookie was gone, Echo beat her into Rookie's depths the previous night.

More silence. They eventually hit the Brooklyn Bridge. Only a little bit longer…

"What's dat?" he asked her. She turned her head to him very slightly. Enough that she could fully see him, but not enough that her neck hurt.

"What?" she asked him to clarify.

"Da scar on yoah cheek," he replied. "It's olda den all ya other cuts."

"Yes, yes it is," Rookie replied shortly. "Why do you care?"

"Why do ya keep askin' me dat?" Spot replied, his voice edged. "I'm just tryin' ta be polite by askin' a God-damned question coz ya look like shit." Rookie glared at him and focused ahead.

"Thanks, Spot," she snapped. "Thanks a lot, that's really what I needed to hear right now. Thanks."

"Rook, ya know-"

"No, I don't know," she snarled, ignoring the pains that ripped through her chest. She stopped and faced him, suddenly not caring about Echo or about ratting out or about her injuries. All she wanted to do was yell at Spot and make him feel as horrible as she did in January. "Last time I saw you, you were chatting it up with my guy, Suave. The time before that, the last time I talked to you, you called me a slut and because I cared so much about what you thought I ran away from the newsies. The only family I ever loved, Spot. Because of you, I was sent to South Carolina where I went to Heaven and right back down to Hell.

"Because your little friend, Echo, is in love with you and has a vendetta against me for running away, I now look 'like shit'. Because she can't let go of the past, I now have scars all over my back, one on my face. And because of her, I now 'look like shit', as you put it so wonderfully. It's been seven months since I last talked with you, Spot Conlon, and I don't know _anything_ about you. And over those seven months, I have realized that I _never_ knew anything about you."

Spot was silent. Rookie took the time to take in her surroundings. They were at the peak of the Brooklyn Bridge, Rookie's favorite spot. Rather, it was her favorite spot. Up until this very moment, she had loved this spot, this exact point on the bridge. She could spend hours upon hours on it, in this very spot. Now, she hated it. She couldn't wait to get off it, away from it, and never come back. Okay, not never come back. That was a little bit dramatic. But she sure as hell did not want to stand there, staring at Spot after she had just screamed at him.

Spot just stared at her. His facial expression went blank and his tone became steady, monotone. "C'mon, I gotta get ya ta da end a' da Bridge an' you gotta get back befoah Jack an' _yoah Suave_ call anuddah attack on my newsies." Rookie narrowed her eyes at him, but she started walking ahead toward Manhattan. Spot walked up next to her, making sure that he was always a step ahead of her. A sign of leadership, superiority. She fixed her eyes on the back of his head and glared, wishing she could bore holes in it.

When they reached the end of the Bridge, Rookie made an audible sigh of relief. But the two stood there momentarily in an awkward silence. Rookie rubbed her forehead before looking over to Spot. "Thanks for saving me," she told him, truly thankful that he had saved her life. If he hadn't, she didn't know where she would be.

"Get outta heah," Spot replied shortly, in the same stony-faced, monotone that he had used a few minutes ago. Anger immediately flared in Rookie, and she sneered at him.

"With pleasure," she replied. "Goodbye, Spot." And the two parted.

The trek back to the Lodging House was horrible. Without Spot to focus her anger on, she was free to focus on the pain. Every step was horrible, and every person she passed on the street took a wide, two-feet birth around her. She walked very slowly now, not set by the pace of a very impatient Brooklyn newsie king.

When she returned to the alley of the Lodging House, she was only slightly surprised to hear a loud argument taking place within. She walked up to the front door, instantly realizing the two voices to belong to Suave and Jack.

"It's almost noon and she's not back, Cowboy!" Suave argued.

"She'll be back," Jack replied, trying to hide the tense edge in his tone.

"Can't we send someone out to go lookin' for her?"

"Give her some time ta get back."

"How much time do we give her?" Suave urged. "She could be hurt or dying…she could be _dead_!" Rookie shuddered at his words, and she couldn't just stand at the door and listen anymore. She opened the door and walked in as Jack was offering his response to Suave. They both looked at her, and Suave was at her side.

"Rookie," he said, moving swiftly to her. Not afraid to collapse anymore, she gave up the fight with the pain in her body and fell into Suave's arms. "Rookie," he whispered quietly, and Rookie heard Jack walk up next to her. "Rookie, what happened."

"Last night," she mumbled. "Attacked…Echo…passed out…Spot got me through Brooklyn…so much pain. I just want the pain to go away. I just want to sleep." Tears began falling from her eyes, and very carefully, Jack and Suave managed to get her into Suave's arms. Eyes closed with tears streaming down them, she felt herself being carried up the stairs. She heard Jack say something quietly, and was only just barely able to discern Suave's reply.

"We'll clean her up when she wakes up," he told Jack with an air of finality. She felt Dawson lower her down onto her bed and straighten her out. He slipped a blanket over her and kissed her forehead.

"Rookie…" he began, but Rookie didn't hear him. She was already asleep. In her dreams she could only see one thing. In her dreams, she could only see Spot's face after she had yelled at him.

"Goodbye, Spot," she was sure she said in her dreams. But in reality, all that came out was a mumble no comprehensible to those around her. And it was strange to Rookie's subconscious self and dream self. Even though she was saying goodbye, the dream-words didn't seem real. They didn't have any substance, any truth. In other words, they were a lie. Dream Rookie and Rookie's subconscious didn't believe it. 'Goodbye' was one big lie.

**&xxx&**

**Author's Note****: **

**So, what did you think? I know that I had Spot be really mean and then kind and then Rookie be mean and kind, it was a really Bipolar/ADD chapter. Lots of ups-and-downs and all-arounds. But, I still hope you enjoyed.**

**Thanks to **elleestJenn**,** Corrupt Me**, **IrishStorm**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** Seren McGowan**,** ilovenewsies **and** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0** for reviewing on Chapter 15.**

**This Chapter was named after and inspired by A Fine Frenzy's "Almost Lover" (thanks Seren). While I was listening to the song for the second or third time, I heard Rookie and Spot singing it to each other. And to truly appreciate the meaning of this song to this chapter, I think that you have to think you have to hear it the way I heard it. So, in accordance with this chapter, I also wrote out how I heard the song being "sung" by Rookie and Spot. It will be a separate "story", and should be right below this Chapter and titled "Almost Lover, Rookie and Spot". Be sure to check it out, please!**

**I hope you enjoyed this Chapter and the return of our loverly Spot Conlon, as there will be much more of him in future chapters.**

**Until next time,**

**XEquestriad**

**P.S. For all of those wondering: Hawai'i was AMAZING. I learned so much and had such an awesome time. And since I had no access to a computer or my iTouch while I was there, coming home to your awesome reviews was SUCH a great joy. I love you all, you truly make this story what it is!**


	17. Near to You

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Seventeen: Near to You**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I don't own anything Disney. I own the characters I have created and the plot. That's it._

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Rookie sighed as her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was the top of Suave's head. He had fallen asleep on his knees, next to the bed. His elbows were propped on the mattress and his face was in his hands. It hurt to raise her hand, but she did anyway. She extended it to his cheek and brushed it gently with her fingertips. Suave looked up slowly, and when he saw it was her he took her hand very gently.

"Hey you," Rookie whispered as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She went to giggle, but her throat hurt and it got caught, so she just smiled. She traced her eyes around the room. No one was there except her and Suave. They must've left while she was still sleeping. She wondered what time it was. "Where's Bear?" As soon as she said the name, Bear's large black-brown head poked out from Rookie's right side.

"We had her off the bed because we were afraid if she shifted she might hurt you," Suave explained, reaching over Rookie and patting the dog on the head. "We tried to bring her to get food, but she wouldn't move from your side. So we just brought the food to her."

"Thank you," Rookie said. She reached her freehand over to the dog and pat her neck gently. "Hey, girl."

"Now that your awake, you should clean up," Suave suggested lightly, causing Rookie to look over quickly. Seeing her confusion in his words, he continued: "You were pretty bloodied up, Rookie."

"How long was I asleep?" she asked him, looking over herself. There were dark patches in her clothing where she had been badly cut.

"About a day and a half," Suave replied, causing Rookie to take a sharp intake of breath. She whined when pain went shooting through her. "What's wrong?" his voice was urgent as he saw Rookie to go into a deep state of pain.

"I feel like I've been hit by a train," she replied. "I think I've done something to my ribs."

"You should go see a doctor," Suave suggested.

"Only if I have to," Rookie replied softly.

"Okay, well it's about twelve o'clock now," Suave said. "You can get cleaned up and then we'll go out sellin' for a bit, to test ya. If you're really having a hard time, you'll go to the doctor." Rookie nodded, agreeing.

Suave helped her get out of bed and walked her over to the wash room. He stayed on her right side, blocking her view of the small mirror. _God-be-damned,_ Rookie thought to herself as they passed it. _How bad do I look?_

He walked her over to the singular shower in the whole building. Only occasionally did it actually run warm water, and the newsies hardly ever used it, as there was not enough warm water to satisfy them all. So it was only used for extreme cases, like Rookies. "Will you be okay in their alone?" Suave asked, genuinely nervous. "What if you fall? We could keep our clothes on, or I could go and get Sweetheart or somethin'." Momentarily, Rookie's thoughts were clouded of images of her and Suave in the shower. But she was quickly brought back when her ankle began to throb.

"I walked all the way back here from Brooklyn the night after the attack, Suave," Rookie tried to reassure him. "I'll be fine. And if I need anything, I'll call you to find Sweetheart, okay?" She kissed his upper on gently, the only place where she could reach without standing on tip-toes. "But there is something I need you to get for me."

"What?" he asked.

"Under my mattress there's a black saddlebag," she explained. "In the saddlebag, there's a white nightdress that Uncle T..Theodore had packed for me." She stumbled a bit, remembering her beloved uncle. "I haven't used it since I arrived, but I need to wash what I'm wearing and I can't walk around naked." Suave nodded and went to go get it. While he did, she took off her shoes and placed them aside. She smirked when she realized that she was still wearing her hat, but kept it on because she knew that had to be cleaned as well.

She stepped into the shower stall and closed the door behind her. She turned on the water, staring up at the faucet. The first bit of water to emerge was cold water, surprising Rookie. She pinned herself to the wall as best as she could without causing pressure to her bruises or to her ribs, until she felt the water turn to warm. When it had, she stood under it, letting the water run over her. She took her hair out of the band and slipped it around her wrist.

Rookie made the mistake of looking down when she nodded her head to get the back of her neck. All she saw was brown, oxidized blood seeping into the drain, polluting the water. She began to feel sick, so she closed her eyes and looked up.

She stripped carefully in the shower, starting with taking off her hat and tossing it over the top. It landed with a water-logged _plop_ on the other side of the door. The then slipped her suspenders off her shoulders. Her shoulders ached as she shrugged them. Next came her pants, socks and underwear. When she was completely stark-naked, she was free to examine the horror that her body had become.

She was badly bruised almost everywhere. Her legs, her stomach, her back and her arms were nearly covered in red and milky-blue marks. Her stomach was the worst, and her left side was badly swollen around her ribcage. Something was definitely not right. _Maybe I should go straight to the doctor…_she pondered to herself. _Or maybe I'll wait it out. Maybe working and getting blood flowing will make it a little better._

She stood there in the shower until the water returned to it's original clear substance while going down the drain and she could pull her fingers gently through her hair without coming across any knots. "Suave?" she called, and she heard him walk over. She opened the door a crack, and a towel was thrust at her.

"What about my nightdress?" she asked him.

"I'm going to give you my extra shirt and pair of pants, instead," Suave informed her.

"Won't they be a big on me?"

"Yeah, but that's what suspenders are for," he replied. "And I figured that it would be more comfortable than a dress." Rookie thanked him and when she was dried, she snatched his shirt. It was a light tan. She slipped it over her upper body and wasn't surprised to see the ends of the shirt reached her knees. She then took the pants and slipped them on, but held them up.

"Suave, I'm coming out, okay?" Rookie told him. "I'm not completely decent yet, please do not look."

"Never," Suave replied. While some of the other newsies might have said this sarcastically or mocked Rookie for saying it, Suave was serious in his reply.

"Thank you." Rookie stepped out and walked slowly over to her bunk, taking short intakes of breath with each step. She could hardly lift her light mattress, but made herself do it. Out of the saddlebag, she pulled out her combination underwear and maneuvered her position so she was completely out of Suave's view…just in case. She stripped back down to nothing and pulled on the underwear. She buttoned it up and then slipped on Dawson's clothes.

They didn't fit her in the slightest, and even with the suspenders adjusted, the pants still reached her feet and Suave had to roll up the sleeves for her. "Your feet are gigantic," Rookie commented as he slipped on her socks. Because of her ribs, it was extremely hard to bend over, and therefore Suave also had to tie her shoes.

"I apologize greatly for all this trouble," Rookie said quietly as he helped her stand up. Suave shook his head.

"This? Trouble?" He kissed her lips very, very delicately. "For you, nothing is trouble." Rookie smiled and had him bend down slightly so she could kiss him on the cheek.

After Rookie had brushed her hair and put it in a low pony-tail, she hung her sopping wet clothes on the end of her bunk to dry. In the summer heat, they would most likely be dry by nightfall. But she noticed some tears in the arms of her shirt and resisted a sigh. She would need a new set of clothes, and soon.

When Rookie felt she was ready, she walked slowly over to the mirror in the washroom. It was just now she realized she was walking with a limp, and looked to her ankle for the source. It wasn't as badly swollen as she had remembered, but she had definitely sprained it. Suave was suddenly beside her, and he took her hand very gently. _Do I really look that horrible?_ Rookie thought to herself.

She looked worse.

She a large bruise surrounding her right eye, which was severely bloodshot. Another well-formed bruise was on the left side of her chin, as well as one on the side of her neck. Her bottom was split on the right side, and you could tell there had been swelling that had just calmed down. Around her left eye was a scratch, but merely a flesh wound that would clear up in a few days. Just below her ear, a slightly deeper cut was beginning to heal. As she became aware of it, it began to itch.

Spot was completely right when he walked her back to Manhattan. She did look like shit.

And suddenly, and overwhelming realization came over her, and her eyes welled up with tears. Suave saw immediately and moved in front of her and the mirror. "Rookie, what's the matter?" he asked her. Stupid question.

"I look horrible!" Rookie said, tears falling from her eyes. "How am I going to be able to sell like this? I'm not going to get any customers and I'm not going to be able to feed myself or Bear, and it's going to be bad!" She put her head gently on Suave's chest, and he began to gently rub her upper arms.

"You're going to be able to sell, you'll get sympathy," Suave replied.

"No, I won't, Suave," Rookie said, stifling a sob she knew her ribs couldn't handle. "I used to think that if girls look beat up, they got sympathy. But you should have seen people when I was walking back from Brooklyn. They avoided me like the Black Plague, like I was some sort of animal that should be locked in a cage."

In truth, Rookie knew in the back of her mind that she wouldn't go hungry _today_. But when she saw herself -she couldn't even call it 'herself, the reflection looked alien- in the mirror, she started to lose it. All the possibilities of what could happen started to flow into her mind and she couldn't stop it. And the looks people had given her two days ago were horrible. Never in her life had she ever been looked at in such a way, and she hated it. She never wanted to be looked at like that again. And for some reason, her emotions were taking whole and destroying her mind and causing it to break down. Suave was so good to her, he just stood there, letting her cry into his chest, rubbing her arms as gently as possible so not to hurt her.

"Oh Suave, I'm so sorry," she said, sniffling and pulling away. "I mean, look at me, acting so horribly. I know you're right, it's just-" She cut herself off and shook her head very lightly, cracking a small smile. "Look at us. Finally alone and I'm all beat up and crying like a baby. I'm sorry for acting in such a manner."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Suave said gently. "This is your first time ever goin' through anythin' like this. I knew that it wasn't goin' to go over perfectly. That's why _I'm _the one stayin' with ya." Rookie smiled. "Rook, ya gotta realize that I love you, really love you. I don't care whatcha look like or how ya act."

"I love you so much, Suave," Rookie said, this time her tears fell with happiness.

"I love ya too, Rookie." He kissed her gently after he said it, being wary of her lip. When he pulled away, he was smiling. "Now come on, let's go so we can catch the afternoon edition." Rookie smiled at him and took his hand. He let her set the pace of how fast they walked, which was very, very slow. One step at a time, especially hard on the stairs. But Rookie felt like she was floating, in away. She took constant glances at Suave. He _loved_ her. _Really_ loved her. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

**&x&**

It was only two hours after Rookie started selling. She still had ten papers left (she had started with fifteen) and she felt like she was getting repeatedly stabbed in the side. There wasn't much more she could take of this. It was time to go see a doctor. She still had five or six dollars left in her saddle bag, she was sure she would be able to use that. All she needed was to have her mid-section wrapped.

She walked back to the distributing center and sold her papers back to Mr. Reynolds, the distributor. She got back what she had paid him and struggled back to the Lodging House. Her side felt like it was on fire, and it was throbbing painfully. Rookie bit her lip and struggled with the tears that threatened to release themselves from the ducts in her eyes. As she walked, people were staring at her as she fought to keep her composure -what little she had left- and not double over right there on the sidewalk.

It took her the better part of fifteen minutes to reach the Lodging House. What would usually be a five-minute trip with a good walking pace, Rookie was lucky that she could still surpass the snails in pace. The climb up the stairs to the bunkroom took her two or three minutes, and when she finally made it to the bunkroom, she was ready to collapse.

Surprisingly, Jack was there, conversing with a newsie Rookie had never met before. "Rookie," he said, standing up and walking over to help her sit down. "What da hell's wrong witcha?"

"My side, my ribs, hurt so much," Rookie replied, trying to stand up from her seat. She noticed that the other newsie was watching the two. _Oh great,_ she thought to herself. _An audience to my pathetic whimpering._ But that thought was pushed from her head when Jack asked her to open her shirt to see it. Rookie complied and opened her shirt and her undershirt to reveal a swollen, purple piece of flesh that was the skin covering her ribs.

"Shit, dat looks pretty bad," he said. He touched it gently, and Rookie cringed, biting her lip to keep herself from emitting an exclamation of pain.

"I…I have s…some money that my Uncle g…gave to me the night I…I l..left," Rookie said between short gasps of breath. "I th…think I'm going to go find the doctor that S…Song's mother brought me to in J…January."

"I t'ink that's a good idea," Jack replied. "D'ya know wheah it is?"

"I…I'm pretty sure…I'm pretty sure I remember where it was," Rookie said while buttoning her undershirt and the shirt Dawson had lent her. "I'll be able to…to figure it out." Damnit, buttoning her shirt was starting to hurt her.

"D'ya want me ta go witcha?" he asked her. "I's done wit sellin foah t'day anyways." As much as Rookie wanted to accept his offer, she declined. She didn't want to rely on him or Suave or anyone else for her well being, not this time. Jack helped Rookie stand up, and she walked over to her bunk. She took her remaining five dollars and shoved it deep in the pocket of Suave's pants, along with the five cents she had made earlier this afternoon.

She took to the streets in pain, and still people treated her like some kind of animal. This killed Rookie, but she was so focused on the pain that was running through her, that she was starting to become oblivious to their stares and how they moved away from her. All she wanted to do was to get to Doctor Murray, the doctor that dear Mrs. Addams had taken to her seven months ago.

She remembered how to get there, the only problem was getting there. She was sure that the pain running through her would surely split her in half, right on the spot. But she tried to focus on happier things, things that made her smile. There was Suave, of course. His eyes, his crooked smile, the simple way he ran his fingers through his hair. Then there was Bear, who she had to leave back at the Lodging House with Jack and that other newsie. She was the sweetest dog, besides Rose. Rookie immediately tore her thoughts away from Rose, knowing that would only lead her to more pain than she could handle. So she tried to focus on good things. Suave, Bear, sunflowers, the ocean, the newsies…"Oww," she whined, holding the "w" out longer than it should have been. This wasn't working.

So when she saw Racetrack walking toward her at the end of the block, she couldn't help but uttering a small sigh of relief. By this point, there was only a block or so to go to get to his office. But then again, a New York City block was a long block. Hopefully, Racetrack wouldn't mind lending a shoulder, just for a block.

"'ey Rook!" he said from farther down. "Yoah awake!" Rookie forced a smile, but as soon as Racetrack approached her, he took notice of the pain written across her face. "What's wrong witcha, Rook?" he asked.

"My ribs," Rookie replied. "I'm going to the Doctor now, it's just down the block."

"Ya gotta enough dough foah dat?" Racetrack questioned.

"Yes, I have some saved from when I left South Carolina," she paused only for a moment before sliding into her question: "Do you think you could lend me a shoulder? I…_ow_…need a little help. It's only about a block further. I know you just came from this direction, but I was just won-"

"Shoah, shoah, I'll help ya out," Racetrack cut in and turned so that Rookie could put her left arm up on his shoulder and stretch it out a bit as well as get some weight off that whole side. It felt good to be stretched, which made Rookie wonder if it was as serious as a cracked rib. Hopefully, it wasn't anything too serious.

By this time, Rookie noticed the large bruise he had on his cheek. "Did you get that in the fight?" she asked him, indicating to his cheek. He nodded.

"It's nothin' compahed ta some a' da t'ings dat happened ta da rest a' da guys. Have ya seen dem yet?"

"No, I haven't," she replied, relatively nervous.

"Yeah, some a' dem got it good," Race replied. "Bettah watch it when ya get back ta da howse. Some a' da guys ain't gonna be too happy dat chyu can goes ta da docta an' dey can't." Rookie nodded her head very lightly. Maybe she could get something for them, as well. But only if she could afford it. After all, she couldn't imagine them being upset with her when she was following one of the number one newsie rules. Before anyone else, you watch out for yourself. Well, she was going to be selfish and make sure that her ribs were taken care of before she thought of the newsies.

"Sos," Racetrack said, bringing Rookie back to her present situation. "How'dchu get all beat up like dis? I t'ought chyous was s'possed ta be up on da fiyah escape."

Rookie explained what happened the night of the fight between her and Echo as they walked slowly down the block. She spoke slowly, trying to keep herself calm as she thought of all the parts of her body that were scratched and bruised and painful. She was about to get to the part about waking up when they reached the office.

"I'll explain to you later," she told him as they reached the top steps.

"Ya gonna be all right ta get back ta da lodgin' howse?" he asked her.

"Yes, I'll be fine," she replied. "Hopefully." She forced a smile and thanked him many times.

"All right, all right!" Racetrack said. "Yoah welcome. Now get in da office." Rookie smiled as best she could and walked into the office. There was no one else in the office, and when the secretary saw her, she narrowed her eyes.

"The doctor isn't seein' anyone else today," she told Rookie in a nasally, high-pitched voice. Rookie could practically feel the color drain from her face. No one else today? But she _needed_ this.

"Please," Rookie begged, walking over to the desk. "He…he doesn't even ha…have -_ow!-_ to see me. Al…All I need is my mid…mid-section wrapped. _Please_, Miss, just ask if he will. _Please._" She locked the woman's eyes with her own and begged. Rookie really wasn't in the shape to fake-faint and land on the hard floor and potentially hurt herself even more.

"Oh, all right," the secretary replied, quickly getting up. "I'll go ask him." She disappeared into another room. Within a minute, a tall, lean man who Rookie recognized as Doctor Murray appeared. He was wearing a long trench coat, and he looked like he was on his way out.

"Before you say anything, sir," Rookie said as quickly as she could, wincing at the pain in her side. "You don't need to examine me, I have money. Just wrap my middle, I think I've cracked or bruised a rib." Doctor Murray sighed, but nodded.

"Come in, quickly," he said. Rookie thanked him and hobbled over and into the same examining room that she had been in the last time. He closed the door behind her and removed his coat and hung it on a chair that was in the corner of the room.

"Quickly now," he said. Even though he was in a rush and seemed to be flustered, his voice was warm and calm. It calmed Rookie down, and she wondered if he kept his voice like purposely, so not to upset or get his patients nervous. "Let's see the damage." Rookie unbuttoned her shirt carefully and then the button-up underwear. She covered her breasts with an arm and pulled off her shirt. She had learned from a very young age that this was what doctors were used to seeing every day, and that it didn't matter to them to see a woman partially or fully naked.

Doctor Murray whistled as he saw the revealed bruises swollen area. When Rookie looked at it, she was pleased to see that the swelling had gone down. "That is something," he told her. "How did this happen."

"I'm a newsie, sir," she replied. "I got into a nasty fight, and obviously, I lost."

"When did this happen?"

"Two days ago," Rookie replied. Doctor Murray nodded and went to touch it. When he did, he did it with little pressure. Rookie flinched and moaned a long "Owww." Doctor Murray nodded to himself again and went into a cupboard and pulled out a roll of bandage.

"Are you having trouble breathing?" he asked her.

"A little," she replied. "But it's just that it hurts to take a deep breath, it's not that I can't." He nodded, and then a small smile appeared on his face.

"Well, from my quick examination and your description, you have a reason to be happy," he told her.

"And what would that be?"

"It seems to only be a major bruising of four ribs," he replied. "And that is much better and will heal much quicker than if it was cracked or worse, broken." Rookie nodded.

"Thank the good Lord," she mumbled under her breath which caused Doctor Murray to chuckle.

"I'm going to wrap your bruised area down to your belly-button, all right?" he began to explain. "This will make bending over very difficult, and I do not advise it, anyway. My advice would be to take three days off, if you can, that is. Two should be fine, and even one would help. Lay straight on your bed and move as little as possible." Rookie nodded and agreed to the terms. Hopefully, she'd be able to take two days off.

Doctor Murray approached her with the bandage. "Now this _is _going to hurt," he warned her. Rookie nodded and bit her lip. "I would suggest not doing that," Doctor Murray said when he noticed. "We don't want you to split your lip, do we?" Rookie shook her head and used both arms to hide her breasts and hold them up so that the doctor could wrap her.

It was a _very _painful process that reduced Rookie to tears. But it forced her to stretch out a bit and sit erect, which already made her bruises feel better. "Would you like some aspirin?" he asked her. She shook her head. She didn't have the money to get medication.

"How much will this all cost?" Rookie asked as she buttoned her underwear and Suave's shirt up.

"About three dollars," Doctor Murray replied, handing Rookie a tissue to dry the tears the pain had caused.

"How much would it cost for me to get five more bandage rolls?" she asked.

"A dollar," the doctor replied. Rookie nodded and then asked for five bandages. He put them in a bag for her, not asking questions and then as soon as she was decent, he held the door for her. She thanked him and walked slowly out. She gave the secretary four dollars and thanked Doctor Murray as he held the door open for her on his way out.

She hobbled down the block very slowly, clutching the small brown bag with the bandages in it tightly. She still had a dollar and ten cents from this morning that she could use. Her stomach was grumbling fiercely, and she figured it would be smart to buy herself and Bear a good dinner with her fifteen cents, and then use the dollar for the two days she would be on bed rest.

But when she got to Tibby's, she decided to put her money to better use. Besides using her fifteen cents to buy herself and Bear food, she spent seventy-five cents to buy the newsies sandwiches. She didn't know how many she got for seventy-five cents, but she hoped that they would feed all the newsies. She figured that if she was going to use her last dollar from her Uncle, she was going to do it properly. She would use the remaining twenty-five for a meal tomorrow and Tuesday.

She struggled with the box that Old Man Tibby gave her to carry all the food in. It was heavy, and the pain in her side plus having no ability to bend made it hard for her to carry. But she managed to get it back to the Lodging House, and Skittery was quick to help her out. Rookie figured he wouldn't have been this helpful if there was no sandwich in it for him, but she didn't care. Help was help.

When she reached the bunkroom, she got some not-so-friendly looks, and some cautious looks when they saw the box in Skittery's arms.

"I…I brought some things for you all," she said quietly. "I went t…to the Doctor's with the money that was left over from what my Uncle gave me, and I had some left over, so I got you some things." She asked Skittery to keep holding the box while she fished into the box to get the bandages.

"In here are five bandages," she explained. "That was all I could afford. Race to…told me that some of you could use them, and here they are. An…and I also brought sandwiches at Tibby's. I don't know how many of them they are, so you're going to have to divide them amongst yourself." Rookie took the two sandwiches and tin of water she bought for herself and Bear and then told Skittery he could put the box in. Without another word, she walked toward her bunk. She put the sandwiches and water on the bedside table and sat down, taking many shallow breaths. She was so tired.

A strong odor became apparent. It was poignant, but it wasn't a bad smell. Actually, it was kind of nice. She looked up and saw Jack approaching with a tall redhead. Jack was smiling, a sandwich in his hand. "Dat was a good t'ing ya did, Rook," he told her. Rookie just smiled and nodded. As the two got closer, the odor got stronger, causing her nose to tingle. She sneezed.

"I'm sorry if my perfume is so strong," the girl said kindly. Rookie cocked her head to the side, stroking Bear absent-mindedly.

"Perfume?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Jack said with a chuckle. "Once a month, she steals a bottle from a stoah someweah in Queens. Same kind, all da time."

"It's my favorite, Jack," the girl replied with a smile. "And I work hard, I believe I deserve a little treat every once-in-awhile." Rookie smiled, still wondering who this girl was, and why Jack had brought her over.

"Dis is Tawka, Rookie," Jack finally explained. Rookie nodded her head.

"Actually, Rookie," the redhead said, tossing a joking glance at Jack. "It's Ta_lker_. Not Ta_wka_. These newsies can't talk, can they?" Rookie chuckled, and winced as it sent a twinge of pain to her ribs.

"It's whatevah," Jack replied. He shook his head. "Newsies can't tawk. We can tawk just fine. But anyways. _Tawka _is da leadah of the Queens newsies. She's a runaway too, dat's why she can tawk so nice." Rookie nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Talker," she said. "I would get up, but I don't think I can at the moment." Talker nodded.

"I understand, I was here before when you came in tears," the redhead replied. Rookie blushed.

"Oh…yeah…that," she mumbled.

"Don't worry about that, I heard you got into a bad fight with one of the Brooklynites," Talker said sympathetically. "We all cry sometimes." Rookie smiled.

"Thanks, Talker," she said. She looked to Jack. "Where's Suave?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a shrug. "Prob'ly still out sellin'." Rookie nodded, hoping that he figured Rookie went to the doctor all by herself, and wasn't out there, wandering around.

Talker and Jack excused themselves, and Rookie sighed. She was tired and in pain, and didn't want to talk any more. She gave Bear one of the sandwiches she had bought especially for them and ate her own. It was hardly enough to make up for almost two days of not eating, but it was food. She drank half the tin of water and gave the rest to Bear.

She grabbed her clothes that were hanging at the end of her bunk, walked into the washroom and changed. Her shirt was torn in quite a few places, she would need a new one soon. She half-cursed herself for not using the money for that, but watched her fellow newsies eating their sandwiches and she shook her head. She did a good thing, and getting a new shirt could wait.

After she was dressed, she brought Suave's clothes over to his bunk and laid them out for him. She then walked over to her own bunk and lay down flat, just like Doctor Murray had ordered her to. Bear lay down right beside her, which would help her during the night if she tried to roll over onto her side. It was either lay flat or roll off the bunk. Rookie cleared her thoughts, let a sigh escape her lips and closed her eye. In under a minute, she was asleep.

**

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**Author's Note****:**

**Sorry this took so long to update! As you know, I got back from Hawaii two weeks ago this Saturday, and it took me a while to get back into 'school mode', and a week to get out of jet-lag. And, after chapter sixteen, I needed a little break. But finally, here is chapter seventeen.**

**Chapter eighteen will be out A.S.A.P.**

**This chapter is titled "Near to You" after the song by A Fine Frenzy. This is not only representing her closeness to Suave that is helping her, but to the Manhattan newsies as well.**

**A big thanks to **EmeraldGreyClouds**, **Corrupt Me**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** ilovenewsies**,** Seren McGowan**,** elleestJenn**,** SpitFire42**,** IrishStorm**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** Kimiko16**,** NeverBeTamed**,** Dollface Conlon**, and **SilverStorm06** for reviewing chapter sixteen.**

**Much Love,  
**_-once-_** Equestrian** _-now-_** Flipper**


	18. You Picked Me

Only Time Will Tell

**Chapter Eighteen: You Picked Me**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. No matter how much I would like to own Spot Conlon. I don't. And therefore, I am sad. :(_

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**Five Days Later ---**

Rookie up with a wide yawn as Kloppman made his rounds, shaking everyone awake. Or, in Rookie's case, flicking the middle of your exposed foot, right in the arch. It usually tickled, but if he was able to get you in a particularly sensitive area, it was painful enough to jerk you from a sound sleep. This time, it only tickled her, but it was enough to open her eyes and send her out of bed.

She let Shadow hop down before she made her way out of bed. With her chest wrapped, it was an awkward thing to do, and she mumbled "Ow, ow, ow," repeatedly under her breath as she went. She slipped her shirt on over her undershirt and underwear with a little difficulty. To bend or stretch a certain way would not only send pain, but pulses through her that would cause her to stumble or fall. The previous day was Rookie's first day back to newsie-y-ing, and she had waved her arm in an odd way and wound up nearly collapsing. She would have to be much more careful today.

The only way that she had been able to get that amount of rest is that Suave had practically forced her to take four days off to recuperate, once he had heard that she might have bruised a few ribs. Rookie had tried to refuse, but he told her that he would sell twice as many papers and be able to pay for them both for half a week. After an hour or so of Suave's pleading, Rookie gave in.

She pulled her pants on and slipped her suspenders over her shoulder. As she did so, Suave walked over to greet her good morning. He inclined his head and kissed her lips with a bit of fervor, the most he had in the passed few days. Rookie's lip had healed remarkably fast, and it wasn't painful to show affection any longer. "Good morning, love," she said as they broke from their kiss.

"Yeaah, Suave," Race teased with an extension of the 'a' as he walked by, a cigar already between his teeth. "Good moahnin' _love_."

"Shut-up, Racetrack," Suave snapped, back-handing the little Italian on the shoulder. "Just coz you don't have a girl don't mean you can knock on everyone who does." Racetrack smirked and hit Suave back, causing Rookie to roll her eyes and walk away from the situation. Sweetheart, who had been watching the situation, walked over to Rookie with a smirk on her face.

"Men," she said with shake of her head.

"You can't live with them," Rookie replied.

"But life's not fun without 'em!" Sweetheart added to Rookie's sentence. Rookie chuckled, but immediately but a gentle hand to her side. Sweetheart immediately looked concerned. "Don't hurt yourself, now. You have to work today."

"I know," Rookie replied. "I just want this to clear up so I can laugh again without being reduced to tears of pain." Sweetheart smiled sympathetically and pat Rookie on the back, causing her to wince from more pain that ran through her. _Damn, Echo,_ Rookie thought to herself. _God damn, damn, damn, Echo. _But as she looked in the mirror, she sighed. At least the bruises had turned a brown-ish yellow color, and weren't as noticeable to buyers.

After Rookie had washed her face and brushed her hair, she grabbed her hat, whistled to Bear and headed downstairs. Suave was waiting for her, as usual. She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek as a greeting and the three walked outside. "No slingshot practice, today?" Suave jested, and Rookie tossed him a mock-glare and a command to shut his mouth.

"I'm not gonna be back till late," Suave continued, abruptly changing the subject.

"Oh?" Rookie asked, scratching Bear's head. "Why is that?"

"Cowboy's sending me, Boots, and Skittery back to Queens with Talker, just in case anyone tries to attack her," Suave explained. "And then while we're there, we're supposed to be message-carriers. Whatever Talker and her second-in-command decide, we'll be bring straight back to Cowboy and David." Rookie nodded. Sometimes, she wished that she could go on these important missions. But that wasn't her place. Her place was selling, and sometimes she even doubted that placement.

"Be careful," she told him as the others came down and out of the Lodging House. Jack and Talker were talking closely, and by the hand motions Jack was making, it seemed as if they were devising some sort of plan.

"I'll be careful," Suave replied, bringing Rookie's attention back to him. "After all, we're going to have five people with us, plus any Manhattan or Queens newsie in the area. There's no reason ta worry."

"There's many reasons to be worrisome," Rookie replied quietly, gently touching his arm. Suave took her hand and kissed her palm.

"I know," he replied. "But there's really nothing, I promise. We'll be back by nightfall, probably even before then." He paused as the mass of newsies started their regular path down the alley toward the nun cart. "How many are you going to sell today?"

"I am planning on only buying thirty-five papers today," Rookie replied. "That's enough for dinner and paper tomorrow, as well as about five cents to save." Suave nodded.

"Are you going to try and sell all in one shot or go for the different daily editions?" he asked her. She raised her shoulders just a hair in a shrug, knowing if she tried anymore in her left shoulder she would taken in pain. She hated Echo.

"I think I'm going to try and get twenty for the morning, ten for the afternoon, and five for the evening edition," she told him. "That way, hopefully I can have a little time to rest before I go out again."

"Sounds like a good idea," Suave approved, which made Rookie smile.

After they had gotten their bread and water, they headed to the distribution center to get their papers. She bought her twenty papers and she and Bear headed out. Today she would go to Central Park to sell. It was a beautiful day, and hopefully she would be able to sell quickly. The quicker she sold, the more time she and Bear would have to rest. Even after four days of being bedridden, Rookie believed the best way to 'rest' would be to walk around the city a bit. There was one particular place that she wanted very much to visit.

**&x&**

Rookie finished selling her last two papers around eleven o'clock. She wiped her brow as she said thank you to the girls on their short break from their factory duties. It was not only hot out today, but humid as well. While it might have been ninety-three degrees, Rookie felt as if it was boiling into the triple-digits. She _had_ wanted to take this time to go somewhere, but she didn't know if she and Bear could handle the trek.

After a moment of sitting on a park bench in the shade, she stood up and decided she would still go where she wanted to go. If she couldn't make it, she would turn around and get a cup of water at Tibby's. So she tugged gently at the rope leash she had Bear on and started their walk, trying to stay in the shadows of trees and buildings.

And finally, she made it to the Brooklyn Bridge. Yes, the very same Bridge she had declared her hatred for only a handful of days ago. But she knew in the back of her mind that she was being _highly_ over dramatic, and it was time to calm herself down. For a moment she thought about running into some nasty Brooklynites, but hey, half of this bridge belonged to Manhattan, right?

_I hope so,_ she thought to herself as she stepped onto the bridge and began her stroll to the highest point.

Except, it wasn't exactly a stroll. Her "struggle" would be a better term for it.

Because the upper portion of her body was still wrapped up tight, it was very difficult and very painful for her to walk at even the slightest of inclines. But she pursed her lips and set her brow determinedly. She was going to make peace with her favorite place on this bridge, even if it hurt a little.

"Ow," Rookie murmured as she took a bit of a false step. Okay, even if it hurt a lot. She was going to force herself to stop being so damned dramatic all the time. It wasn't going to do any good in her newsie-ying, infact, it would probably only do her harm. So she would face what she believed to be a weakness caused by her own idiocy.

It took her quite a time to make any distance on the bridge. Rookie walked at a slow, stiff, pace, because of her wrapped middle, not to mention that the sun was blistering. She was almost constantly stopping to take a few good breaths or support herself on the railing. Quite a few people that passed her or walked in the opposite direction would give her strange looks, and only one kindly young lady actually asked her if she needed help. Of course, she denied the offering but thanked the girl graciously.

She was about halfway up to the center when she had to stop and take a rest. She walked over to the railing and propped her elbows up, looking around. Thanks to long sleeves and the height of the bar, the heat didn't hurt her and neither did her ribs. She watched the water flow under the bridge longingly. How cool the water must feel. How she longed to just jump in, jump in with Bear and swim far, far away.

"Whatta ya doin' on me bridge?" Spot's voice made Rookie tense up, which made her murmur and "Ow" as pain shot up her sides. She bristled, tightened her grip on Bear's leash and turned around, facing Spot. He stood his tallest with a defiant air, yet had a lazy look of arrogance written across his face. His arms were folded across his chest, twirling his cane in his hand just behind his back.

"_You're_ bridge?" Rookie questioned, the pitch of her voice raising. She had barely looked at him, and only heard six slang words out of his mouth. And yet, she had no patience for him. "That's droll. Tell me, is your name on it?" Spot cocked an eyebrow and smirked. So he was amused, huh?

"It's da _Brooklyn_ Bridge," he replied. "An' I'm Brooklyn, sos it's my bridge, y'undastand?" This made Rookie bark a sarcastic laugh and then bit her lip and a gentle hand went to her ribs. She saw Spot's eyes follow her hand, a strange look in his eyes. She quickly pulled his attention away from her ribs with a sharp reply.

"_You're_ Brooklyn? Mr. Brooklyn? King-of-Brooklyn, so that makes this your bridge, eh?" she examined.

"Yous always was a smaht goil, Rookie," Spot said silkily, a sarcastic, malicious, grin on his face. Rookie raised both eyebrows and moved her head back slightly, raising her chin. So he wanted to play that game.

"Smart, eh?" she said, just as smoothly as he had, minus the malicious twinge. "Well, did you know that the Brooklyn Bridge was made to connect _Manhattan_ with Brooklyn and Long Island? Did you know that it was originally called the _New York_ and Brooklyn Bridge, but then dubbed sometime in the late eighteen-sixties as the Brooklyn Bridge because someone wrote it in a letter to a local Brooklyn newspaper? It isn't even officially called the Brooklyn Bridge by the government, only local New Yorkers." She watched as Spot fought to keep his nonchalant pose, but she could see he lips pursing and his back stiffening slightly.

Thoroughly enjoying this, she continued. "Therefore, half of this bridge belongs to New York City, namely Manhattan. I'm technically on Manhattan's side of the Bridge, and you, being an enemy of the Manhattan newsies, are trespassing on Manhattan grounds. How's that for always being a smart girl, huh, Spot?"

Spot was silent for a moment, and then he relaxed, his lips parted and he smiled. Genuinely smiled, flashing his white teeth and everything. And then he laughed. Rookie was taken aback by his laugh, she hadn't heard it in a long time. At first she was angry at him for laughing at her, but it was contagious, and Rookie began to smile, and soon a chuckle escaped her lips. She thought back to her words. She had sound rather ridiculous, rather snotty, more like perhaps Antoinette than herself. With the thought of her former sister and a pain running through her side, her chuckle ceased and her smile faded.

"What?" Spot asked, his smile slowly fading.

"My side," Rookie replied. "I went to see the Doctor that Song's mother brought me to. He examined me and said it was likely that I had bruised a few ribs on my left side." Why did she suddenly decide to spill this out to Spot? A mere minute ago she couldn't stand his existence.

"Oh," Spot replied.

Silence.

Rookie turned back to the water flowing beneath the bridge. It was so hot today…

"Yoah still on my bridge," Spot commented from behind, causing Rookie to turn around. This time she turned slowly, so as not to hurt her sides. She was surprised to see a small grin threatening the corners of his mouth.

"Until I reach the peak and cross over it, Spot, I'm on Manhattan territory," Rookie reminded him, starting to walk upward. He followed her, which caused her to look in the opposite direction. "Besides, I thought we weren't speaking."

"Who says?"

"I assumed from our last encounter that-"

"Assumed what?" Spot asked, cutting her off. "Yoah still hung up on dat?"

"No, I am not, 'hung up on dat,'" Rookie replied, mocking him just a little bit. She was lying a bit, considering that their little scrap a few days ago at the peak of the bridge was what made her want to return to it. "Like I said, I just assumed that you were going to be the arrogant, grudge-holding, stubborn-as-a-mule person you usually are."

"Maybe I's changed," Spot replied, and Rookie couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. But either way, her natural reaction was to stifle an outburst of laughter. Spot change. Hah! That was a good one. Rookie doubted if she would ever see the day he did.

"You've changed?" it was more of a question than a general statement when Spot spoke, but Rookie found herself nodding in reply. For some reason, it was easy talking to Spot. An easiness she had long forgotten.

"I have," she replied.

"I's noticed," Spot replied. "Yah nevah tawked dis much when I knew yah." Rookie cracked a smirk, thinking back to the days filled with butterflies in her stomach and flushed cheeks.

"I never knew what to say back then," she commented.

"Now ya don't shut up," Spot quipped, and Rookie chuckled, shaking her head.

"No Spot, you haven't changed a bit." She didn't know if she meant to say that out loud, but she did, and the words hung in the air in between them.

_Them_. That was an odd way to phrase it. Them. Rookie hadn't thought of Spot and herself as a 'them' in a long time. And in truth, they weren't. They were just two newsies that had bumped into each other on a walk on the Brooklyn Bridge.

"If da bridge ain't Brooklyn's, why do dey call it da Brooklyn Bridge, eh?" Spot asked as they continued on. Rookie had pinned her gaze to the ground, trying to ignore the pain in her side as they ascended the incline.

"Usually, the name of a bridge describes where it's from, not where it's going," Rookie replied. "And since the New York and Brooklyn Bridge was began on Brooklyn soil, I suppose that's why people shortened the name. But then again, I don't know for sure, I'm not the person who wrote the letter to the newspaper back in the eighteen-sixties."

"How do ya know all dat stuff?" Spot asked her in a leisurely tone. He was relaxing too. Though he had seemed relaxed from the start, Rookie could feel the two of them relaxing into each other, into each others' presence.

"I used to have the very same view as you," Rookie commented, a small smirk on her lips. "You know, as-" she hushed her tone "-Brooklyn. When I was very young, I always wondered why they named a bridge after me. I also wondered that if it was my bridge, why others were allowed on it when I didn't let them. So I asked my father. Basically what I just spewed out to you was a mimic of what my father had told me many years ago." She sighed and shook her head in embarrassment. Why had she just revealed that to Spot?

A silence fell between them, and Rookie brought her eyes from the ground to catch her surroundings. They were nearly at the peak of the bridge. Though her true intentions had been to reach this point, it was one of the last places she wanted to be with Spot.

So many things between Spot and Rookie had happened at the very top of the arch on the Brooklyn Bridge. It was at the peak that Rookie (well, she was Brooklyn then) realized that Spot was slowly stealing her heart. It was there that she had stopped when she was running away, just to look over at the top. She remembered Spot tugging her hand and telling her that she was free, and that he hadn't let go of her hand after they began running. She remembered the bad things, as well. It was at the peak of bridge that Rookie had to stop as she ran back to Brooklyn, back to her family and away from the newsies. All because of Spot. It was there, that only a few days ago, she had yelled at Spot and spilled the feelings she had bottled up inside her for months.

The last place she wanted to be with Spot. Too many things had happened. She had to make peace with her dramatic self before she could deal with Spot and the peak of the bridge.

She stopped dead in her step. Spot noticed and turned around. "I have to go," she stated simply and turned around slowly, starting to walk off.

"Why?" Spot asked her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Because I have to," she replied, trying to keep the conversation as short as possible. "Goodbye, Spot. It was nice chatting with you." _Even though I did most of the chatting,_ she thought to herself ruefully. But Spot had prodded her into prattling on, so he had wanted to listen. That was strange.

"Why?" he repeated, and this time he stopped her with not only words, but mild force. He had taken her upper arm with his hand, holding her in her place.

"You don't understand, Spot," Rookie said quietly, jerking her arm away from the Brooklyn King, wincing and biting back the urge to say "Ow" as a sharp pain ran through her. "Just let me go back, okay? I have some more selling to do before Suave gets back, I want to be there when he does." Maybe she had said a little to much, she needn't have added the last bit about Suave. But suddenly, Spot's demeanor changed.

"Fine," he said his tone even. "Seeya round, Rook." And he turned on his heel and walked away. Rookie, stunned by his willingness to let her go after seeming so reluctant, turned back to her route and started back down the bridge.

"Nope, Bear," she said, looking at her large pup. At the mention of her name, Bear looked up at Rookie. "That boy has not changed." She shook her head lightly. "No, not one bit." And yet, her head was spinning as she thought back to immediate events. She and Spot had walked lightly, talking a jesting with each other as if they where friends. But they weren't, which confused her.

What confused her more was how she instantly opened up to him. She had blabbed about her sides, how she has "changed" and then her father. What was wrong with her? There was no other person in the City she thought of as more as an enemy than Spot. Well, except for Echo.

_It must have been Spot's demeanor,_ Rookie thought to herself as she continued on her way down the Bridge. _He was so relaxed and open, that I believed I felt the same way._ But she couldn't get over how nice it felt, being able to talk openly like that with someone. She would never dare talk to anyone but Suave in such a way, especially when it concerned her, well, Brooklyn's family . And yet, she spilled them to Spot, who at this point could be a perfect stranger to her.

"Oh Bear," Rookie mumbled, running her fingers through the dogs long black-brown fur. The dog was panting and looked about ready to pass out. They needed to go to Tibby's. But on the walk there, Rookie was still fixed on the Spot from the Bridge. "Maybe he has changed."

**&x&**

Rookie began her return to the Lodging House around seven-thirty that evening. The sun was still just falling behind the skyline, and the sky was a pleasant pink. She and Bear had just had their regular meal at Tibby's with the company of Button, the youngest newsie in Manhattan. She was only five years old, barely a newsie at all. But she sold her papers, and she sold them well. But after a long day of work, she was tired and fussy, and begging to be carried.

"Fine, fine, fine," Rookie finally said gently, even though she knew that Jack would disapprove in coddling her. After a tiresome day, Rookie couldn't handle the whining. "But you're going to have to be very careful, okay?" Button nodded. Rookie squatted carefully, making sure to keep her upper body straight as a board. Button wrapped her arms around Rookie's neck and Rookie guided the littlest newsie's body to her right side, holding her carefully there. She stood up very slowly, and pain shot through her as she rose to her full height. Button was not that much of a carry, but any extra weight really took it's toll on Rookie's sore arms and legs.

"Now, Button," Rookie said gently. "You must keep yourself still, okay? I got hurt a while ago and carrying you is already hard enough. Do you understand?" Button nodded her head.

"Uh-huh, I undastand, Rookie," she replied in her high-pitched, baby-esque tone. Rookie couldn't help but smile as the two walked down the street.

The three received a few odd glances from the upper class, and Rookie didn't blame them. To see a teenager with a child and a dog, with both girls dressed as boys, must have been pretty different. As Brooklyn, she would have thought it strange as well, and possibly jumped to conclusions about the relationship between the girl and the child.

When the three finally returned to the Lodging House, Button was asleep in Rookie's arms. This meant that Rookie would have to climb the stairs with the child in arm. _Great,_ she thought to herself. But, when she walked in, Mush and Specs were playing cards at the table. When Mush saw the pained expression on Rookie's face, he stood up took Button from her.

"Thanks, Mush," Rookie said with a grateful smile.

"No problem," Mush replied. "Ya bringin' her up ta da bunkroom?" Rookie nodded, and the two walked up to the bunkroom together. It was odd being in such close-contact with him again. Since she had returned, Rookie and him hadn't really talked at all. Things were still a little awkward after what had happened in January. For him to come and help her was a nice thought, especially when he was in the middle of a card game with Specs.

"I'll take her from here," Rookie said when they reached the top of the steps. "Thank you so much for helping me, I don't know what I would've done if I had to do it myself."

"I didn't want to see you fall down the stairs," Mush replied truthfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He was uncomfortable, and Rookie caught on to that immediately. So she took the limp, sleeping, Button carefully onto her right hip and bid Mush another thank you before walking into the bunkroom.

Jack and David were talking intensely in the corner. Though they both looked up briefly when Rookie entered, they were back to their conversation in less then a second. Race and Itey were playing a card game on one of the beds, and on the bed next to them were Sweetheart, Shadow and Cat. Sweetheart and Shadow were having an animated conversation, while Cat looked up and watched Rookie as she crossed the room, making Rookie rather uncomfortable. So she fixed her eyes on Button's bed and walked over, passing Snipeshooter, Snotty, and Pie-Eater playing a game of jacks. Scraps, the youngest boy newsie (he was only six years-old), was already asleep. Rookie laid Button carefully in the next bed over, mumbling swears under her breath as she had to bend to lay her down and tuck her in.

Rookie had Bear go wait on the bed and went into the washroom. She washed her face and the back of her neck and ears. When she returned to her bed, she retrieved Pride and Prejudice from under her mattress. She was lucky enough to shove her four favorite books into the saddlebag, and was extremely lucky that they weren't terribly ruined from the rain. Their covers were flimsy, and some of the pages had ripped, but for all intensive purposes, they were perfectly fine. The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz, Little Women, and of course, Pride and Prejudice had been shoved into her saddlebag while Uncle Theodore and Ro-well, Brooklyn, then- Brooklyn's saddle bag.

Rookie rubbed her eye and blinked back tears as she took her book and settled into her bunk. It was an odd thing, reading in bed. Since she could not simply sit up to read because of her ribs, she had to lay on her back and hold her book up, about half a foot from her eyes. Her knees were bent, her feet touching her buttocks because she had to give Bear room to lay down as well.

She had just finished chapter two when noise was heard in the hallway. A rowdy noise, which caught Rookie's attention. But none of the others had paid it any attention, so Rookie figured that it was just a new set of newsies coming back from work.

"Rookie." When she heard her name called, she looked up to see Suave standing at the foot of her bed. A smile flashed across her face and she put her book down next to her.

"Hey, Suave," she said, but was concerned when he saw a look of urgency written on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Suave replied, flashing her a convincing smile. "Ya wanna come with me for a minute?" Rookie nodded her head. She got out of her bed slowly and Suave took her right hand and practically dragged her out of the room.

"Where are we-" Rookie began. "What are we-?" Suave brought her into the sick room and closed the door behind them. After he had released her wrist, Rookie put her hands to her hips. "Suave, what are we doing?"

"This…" he murmured. He took her gently by the hips and brought his lips to hers. When they pulled apart, Rookie was smiling. "I missed you today."

"I missed you to, Suave," she replied. "But…why all of this?" Suave kissed her again, this time deeply, passionately. Rookie practically melted into him, restricted only by the wrapping around her middle. Her arms reached up and wrapped around his neck as the kiss deepened. He asked for entrance into her mouth and she accepted willingly, beginning to explore his as well. And suddenly, Suave broke apart.

"That's why," Suave replied with a smile. "When was the last time we did that?"

"A long time ago," Rookie admitted. "Or at least, it feels that way." Suave nodded.

"I realized that today, Rook," he said, bringing up a hand and tracing her cheekbone, being wary of healing cuts and her scar. He cupped her head in his hands and kissed her again. Her hands moved to his sides as he dipped down and began tracing his kisses away from her lips and to her jaw and neck. Rookie started to feel light-headed, but in a good way. She hadn't felt this way with Suave in a long, long time.

And suddenly, something hit her. As his head was inclined, his lips now focusing on her collar bone as they began backing up slowly, searching for a wall, Rookie got a whiff of his hair and shirt. He smelt…different. Distinct. She'd smelt it before, but it wasn't familiar. "You smell different," she told him as his lips searched for hers. He smiled and chuckled.

"I smell different, Rookie?" he asked her between small, delicate kisses.

"That's what I said," she replied, wanting to stop the little kisses and become more passionate. "You don't-" she was stopped by his kisses, becoming more deep and his tongue pressing for allowance into her mouth once more. But she was able to continue when they broke apart. "You don't usually smell like this." Once again, Suave chuckled.

"It must be from Talker," he told her, and her eyes shot to his. "The Queens Lodgin' House reeks of the stuff. She must not only spray it on herself, but everywhere else." Rookie smiled in relief, and Suave began searching her eyes. "You don't really think I would be unfaithful, do you?" He looked almost taken aback, and hurt was creeping into his eyes. Rookie felt horrible.

"Of course you're not," she murmured. "I never meant to imply that, it's just I got nervous."

"There's nothin' to be nervous about," Suave told her, and dipped down, begin to plant kisses on her neck. "I promise."

"I believe you," Rookie replied.

"I love you, Rookie," Suave told her, his lips beginning to trace her jaw, toward her ear. Rookie's lips parted and a small moan escaped. Rookie could feel Suave's smile as he kissed around her ear.

"I love you too, Suave," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

And another commotion was heard outside the room, another wave of newsies coming in. "I think we should find another spot, yeah?" Suave asked. Rookie smirked and nodded.

When the newsies left the hall, Rookie and Suave walked out onto the fire escape and up to the roof. Despite the pain in her left side, she moved at the fastest pace she could muster. All of her thoughts were focused on Suave, and Suave's kisses.

As soon as they reached the roof, their hands were on each other again. Suave was very careful of Rookie's side, and put his hands on her hips, bringing her to him gently. Rookie put her hands on his shoulders, running her fingers over his back in a gentle massage. She moved her fingers up to her neck as he entered her mouth with his tongue. She must have hit a tight spot, because he let out a sigh as she worked her fingers up and down his neck.

Rookie felt him gently guide her against the brick chimney stack. She carefully rested herself against it, focusing most of her weight to her right side. She could feel Suave wanting to move his hands from her hips, but hesitating. So she took his left hand and guided it gently up her right side so it was just next to her breast. He cupped it gently, and she squirmed. _That _was a new experience.

"Is this okay?" Suave breathed, looking into her eyes. Rookie nodded and leaned up and kissed him. This was more than okay, this was bliss.

"Ow!" Rookie exclaimed, pulling away from Suave and falling to her knees. To accommodate more of Suave closer to her, she had twisted the wrong way and hit the brick wall. Pain shot through her sensitive side, and she began breathing heavily. Suave kneeled down and kissed her gently, sweetly, in a attempt to stop the tears from falling down her face.

"C'mon," he said gently, and helped her stand up.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to him. "I just-"

"I know," Suave replied. "Let's get you back to your bunk."

The trek down the stairs was slow and steady, Suave's hand clasped in Rookie's the whole way down. They entered the bunkroom, and as they passed, got strange looks from the others.

"What happened?" Racetrack asked, looking accusingly at Suave.

"Nothing," Rookie replied. "I hit my side really hard." Racetrack looked skeptical, but backed off. Suave walked Rookie over to her bunk and helped her lay down. When she was on her back, she looked at him and smiled. He kneeled down next to her and took one of her hands in his, kissing it gently. "Guess we got carried away, huh?" he whispered.

Rookie forced a smile through the pain in her sides and nodded. "Just a little."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn'ta let it go that far," Suave apologized.

"I didn't exactly tell you to stop," Rookie pointed out. "It's my fault, I should have known I wasn't up for it yet."

"But-"

"It's both of our faults." Rookie cut Suave off before he could even get a second word in. Suave nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"Get some sleep," he told Rookie, kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, my love," Rookie murmured as he did.

"I love you," he replied. She smiled and watched him walk away to his bunk, right across the room.

In the back of her mind, Rookie wondered what had brought on Suave's behavior. Perhaps it was because she was feeling better, and was able to function more normally. Perhaps he had been thinking of their days as Brooklyn and Dawson and began longing for the same intimacy they had once shared. But whatever the reason, Rookie found herself not caring _why_. All she cared about is that it had happened. They had almost got to the point where they wouldn't stop until…Rookie shook her head, but didn't fully want the thought to leave, and found herself wishing she wasn't so injured.

_Maybe I've changed more than I thought, _Rookie thought to herself as she closed her eyes and rolled carefully onto her right side. She flashed through today's major events. Spot, then Suave. She smiled at the memories of both, which annoyed her slightly. She shouldn't be smiling at anything concerning Spot, only Suave. And yet, she returned to her memory and fell asleep with a smile placed on her lips.

**

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**Author's Note****:**

**Here it is, Chapter Eighteen, at last!**

**The chapter is named in accordance with A Fine Frenzy's 'You Picked Me'. Obviously, I've been in a very A Fine Frenzy-ish mood, as of late.**

**Thanks to all of your reviews on Chapter Seventeen. Thank you to **ilovenewsies**,** Kimiko16**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** IrishStorm**,** Kathryn Mason-Sykes**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** Corrupt Me**, and** Seren McGowen **for your awesome comments!**

**Chapter Nineteen will be out as soon as my fingers can fly and my homework allows me to let them!**

**xFlipperx**

**P.S. Yes, my name changed. Besides having an extreme love for dolphins (I want to be a trainer after college), over my Hawaii trip I discovered I could make noises like a dolphin and my friends started calling me Flipper, and it just stuck!**

**P.P.S. Yes, Spot will start appearing frequently in future chapters.**

**P.P.P.S. I got all my information on the Brooklyn Bridge from my very knowledgeable father and Wikipedia.**


	19. Gives You Hell

Only Time Will Tell**  
Chapter Nineteen: Gives You Hell**_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Meh._

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Rookie woke that night to a flurry of movement and someone calling -no, shouting- her name. Her eyes burst open and she began moving her eyes all around, trying to see straight in the darkness. She saw newsies bustling about, a panic about them. She sat up quickly, whimpering as pain shot through her. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to expel the pain from her mind.

"Rookie!" it was two people calling her this time. She recognized Suave and Jack. As quick as she could, she slid out of bed and found the two standing at the end.

"Brooklyn's attackin' us," Jack told her quickly. "Do ya think ya can fight?"

"Definitely not," Rookie replied, too groggy to think anything major of the attack. She wasn't even sure if this was a dream or not. "If I turn the wrong way or get hit in the side, it's game over." She barely saw Jack's head nod, and then he called Pirate over.

Button was thrust at Rookie by a third person, she recognized Pirate when her eyes focused. She took Button and placed her on her right hip, bouncing her gently. The five year-old was whimpering and sucking on her thumb, clearly unsure of what was going on. She felt another small body cling to her left hand. Looking down, she saw the youngest boy newsie, Scraps, looking up at her with wide, fearful eyes.

"Take her and Scraps up ta da roof an' hide dere, kay?" Jack told her.

"Why the roof?" Rookie asked.

"Brooklyn has a habit of breaking-and-entering," Jack replied quickly. "And kidnapping, if they can manage." Rookie's eyes widened. Kidnapping? "Dey don't do anythin' ta da kid or nothin', dey just take 'em away foah a little while, 'specially if dey know it's a bruddah or sistah to a newsie."

"Button's my lil' sista," Pirate filled in. "An' Scraps might as well be my lil bruddah."

"Cat says Brooklyn wasn't fah away when she last saws dem, ya gotta get up ta da roof," Jack told her. "An' stay dere. Take yoah slingshot. If anythin' happens, just yell or scream loud as ya can, an' we'll try an' get someone up dere."

"And we'll keep Echo away from the stairs and the fire escape, okay?" Suave reassured her, practically reading Rookie's thoughts. Rookie nodded. Suave bent down and looked to Scraps, addressing him seriously. "This girl here's _my _girl, y'understand? Take good care of her for me, okay?" Scraps nodded determinedly, and grasped Rookie's hand tighter.

"Let's go," Jack said. Suave stood up and looked to Rookie.

"Everything will be all right," he told her. They kissed briefly. "We'll come and get you when it's all over." Another kiss. "Be brave. I love you."

"I love you too," she returned with a last kiss. He and Jack were off, while Pirate stayed behind.

"Button's my lil sista," he repeated to Rookie, and she nodded. "Take care of her." He bent down and removed the knife and it's holder from his calf. "I won't need this tonight. If anything happens to her, this goes to her. It was our faddah's, make shoah she remembah's dat, okay? An' feel free ta use it if ya has ta." Rookie nodded, taking the knife and it's holder and placing it carefully in her pocket.

"Now get up ta da roof." Pirate kissed his little sister on the forehead, told her and Scraps to be brave and listen to Rookie, and then left. Almost all of the other newsies were out of the bunkroom, and they were still filing out. Rookie walked over to her mattress, stuck her hand under her pillow and grabbed her slingshot and the little bag filled with rocks and marbles. She also stuck her hand under her mattress and grabbed the little change she had started saving, just in case. Rookie whistled to Bear, who was still asleep. The large dog awoke with a start and hopped out of bed lazily, following her owner and the two small children out of the bunkroom.

She helped the children and Bear out the window, and took the knife, sling shot and bag in her left hand. She had Bear go ahead of them so she could watch her dog and Scraps at the same time. "Be careful walking up the stairs, Scraps," she told the young boy. He nodded and gripped the railing tightly, taking the stairs one step at a time.

She heard a commotion from down on the street as they were nearing the top, and it startled her. Brooklyn was here, and they hadn't reached the roof. The risk of being discovered greatened. She grabbed Scraps by the suspenders and lifted him up, whimpering as it put stress on her side. He whined and complained, and she snapped at him to be quiet. "You have to be quiet," she told him sternly. "If they find us, we're in big trouble."

It was a heck of climb. Button heard the commotion and was clinging tightly to Rookie and pulling her hair slightly. Carrying Scraps, as light as he was, put stress on her left side, and she was tearing from the pain running through her. But she pressed on. Not only was she worried for her own safety, but for the safety of Scraps and Button. She could not, and _would not_ let them be kidnapped, even if it meant putting herself between them and an angry Brooklynite. But hopefully, the four would get up to the roof and be able to remain there without any problems.

By the time they reached the roof, Rookie was certain she was going to split in half. She placed Scraps on his feet and called Bear to her side. She led them behind the exit to the stairs, wishing that she was actually able to use them. The stairs had been condemned by the newsies, and no one was allowed on them. They were broken down, the weak would rotted and flimsy. At one point, there was a four stair gap from stairs that had broken clean in half.

Rookie was breathing heavily, and was glad that they were able to sit down. By the sounds floating up from the ground, the fight was already well under way. She was nervous, very nervous. She had Bear lay down right up against the wall (the pup didn't mind, she was upset to be awoken anyway). She sat down with Button in her arms, crossed her legs and let the little girl curl up in her lap, laying her head on Rookie's knee.

"Fall asleep, Button," Rookie cooed. "It will all be all right. You'll wake up, and it will be morning, okay?" Button nodded and closed her eyes. Scraps sat next to them, sidling up to Rookie. She apologized to him for picking him up by the suspenders. "We had to get up here as soon as possible. I know the stairs are steep, but time was not a luxury we had to spend, okay?" Scraps nodded.

"I undastand," he told her, and she smiled at him. "But I wanna fight."

"You're too young, Scraps," she was very gentle, very careful when she spoke to him. She knew how young children -especially boys- could react when they were told they couldn't do something. "And you'd get hurt. The Brooklynites don't mess around."  
"But I _could _fight," he protested in a whisper. "I _wanna_ fight."

"I know you want to," replied Rookie. "So do I, but I'm injured. The two of us would slow them down. Besides, who would stay and watch Button? It's our job to make sure no one kidnaps her."

"I know," Scraps replied.

"Do you know how important that is?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Good, now get some sleep, I'll wake you up if anything happens, okay?" The boy sighed zealously and nodded, leaning his head on her lower thigh. Rookie had lying been lying to him when she told him that. If anything happened, she'd rather them be asleep than making noise. She placed the knife and the slingshot next to her. She highly doubted she would need the knife, but if Echo got up to the roof, she did want to have a bit of an upper hand.

The commotion from down below grew, and it was moving Rookie from nervous to frightened, especially when she began to hear doors banging. Her breathing became quick and shaky, but she forced herself to focus on happy thoughts. Happy, happy thoughts, like what she and Suave would be able to do when her side was finished. Happy thoughts, like the sunrise over the ocean.

But then she heard a muffled _clang_!. Someone had made it to the fire escape. Bear was sound asleep, thankfully, so there would be no growling to give their position away. Rookie listened carefully, whoever was on the stairs was attempting to go slow and quietly, but she could still hear their shoes on the metal. Carefully, she took Button off her lap and laid her down on Bear. Scraps woke up, and Rookie put her hand over his mouth.

"Shhh," she told him. "Someone's coming. I don't know if they're from Brooklyn or Manhattan. I'm going to go over to the chimney stack to keep them away, okay? Watch Button and Bear and _stay silent_. Do not make a sound, do not let Button make a sound. You understand."  
"Yes," Scraps replied.

"Good boy," she told him. She strapped the knife onto her calf, put the rocks and marbles in her pocket and grabbed her slingshot. She listened carefully, the person was very close to the top. So she quickly found her way over to the chimney stack, hiding behind it, but at an angle so she could peak over. Adrenaline was flowing, and the pain and throbbing in her side was dissipating.

And then she saw him, and almost breathed a sigh of relief. It was Spot, or at least she was near-positive that it was. The figure was shorter than most, skinny but muscular, and was twirling a cane in his right hand. She watched him carefully, he was seemingly unaware of her. But, after looking around briefly, he looked purposefully toward where Bear, Button, and Scraps were hidden behind. When he came closer, Rookie realized that it was Spot, and she knew his intentions of finding the hidden newsies.

_We can't have that, can we?_ Rookie asked herself as she strung up her slingshot and fired. She wasn't aiming to hit him, just get him distracted. As soon as she released, she moved to the other side of the chimney stack farther away from him. She heard a grunt, she must have hit him. Rookie couldn't help but smirk. She had shot the King of Brooklyn.

But then she heard his footsteps approach. She turned to the other side and fired again. This time, she missed on purpose, and his pace quickened. When she was on the side that faced the stairs, the side opposite Button and Scraps at the other part of the roof, she stopped and held her breath. Spot came around the corner fast, cane out. He startled her, and she emitted a little yelp. Even though she knew he was coming, the fear inside her was building. He brought the cane back and started to swing. Rookie closed her eyes and ducked, hearing a _thwap! _above her. Her suspenders were grabbed and she was pulled up and thrown against the brick.

"Damn it, Spot!" she exclaimed, paining ripping through her. She almost fell in pain, but he held tight to her suspenders and kept her standing. This time, he placed her more gently on the brick, releasing his grip of the suspenders. He put his left hand to the right of her right cheek, just above her shoulder. She felt his cane pressing up against her neck like a sword.

"Rookie?" he questioned.

"Yes, Spot," she replied, her voice evening out.

"What areya doin heah?" he asked her.

"Staying away from the battle," she replied truthfully. "I can't fight with my bruised ribs." She told him the truth, even if it wasn't the complete truth. Just in case he was deciding to be brutal, she didn't dare reveal that Scraps and Button were with her. Spot remained silent for a few moments before removing the cane from under he neck and taking a step back.

"Who sent ya up heah?" he asked her.

"Why should I tell you?" she snapped.

"Who am I gonna tell?" he snapped back.

"I don't know," Rookie replied. "Why do you want to know?"

"Jus' wonderin'."

"Cowboy and Suave, who do you think?" she told him. Spot nodded his head.

"Ahhh," he said, and she could swear she heard a smirk in his voice. "T'ought so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Spot told her, and Rookie eyed him warily. A loud commotion was heard just below them, and Spot turned his head sharply. He turned back to Rookie and said very seriously: "Stay up heah. If I see yous down staihs, I'll…I tell yoah little _Suave-y _about it. An' you'll get in trouble wit Jacky-boy. Don't dey let you's have fun no moah?" And he turned and started walking away. At first, Rookie was funny.

And then she realized something that curled her lips into a smirk.

Spot was jealous. _Jealous_. He was jealous of Rookie's relationship with Suave. Oh, this was too perfect. A thought came to her head, the thought of her and Suave in this very place, not six or seven hours ago. Words played on her tongue, and she couldn't resist the urge to let them out.

"Actually, Spot," she said, her voice calm and nonchalant as Spot walked away. He didn't stop, but moved his head to the side a bit. "We have a lot more fun than you and I ever had." Spot's step hesitated, but he continued toward the fire escape.

Rookie waited for the sound of steps on the fire escape to fade away before she laughed to herself, causing pain in her side. But she dealt with that pain and walked over to Scraps and Button. Scrap was sitting upright, waiting for her.

"He leftya alone!" he exclaimed in a whisper. Rookie nodded. "Spot Conlon left ya alone!"

"We're old friends, Spot and I," she told him, still smirking. "And he'll make sure that no one comes up here, all right?" She sat down next to him gently, taking Button off of Bear and setting the five year-old in her lap again.

"Come on," she told Scraps, offering him her right shoulder. "Let's get some sleep, okay?" Scraps sidled up next to her again and leaned on her shoulder, his eyes closing.

In a matter of minutes, his breathing became slow and rhythmic. He was asleep. The sounds of battle had not ceased, but they had quieted somewhat. But even so, Rookie was content, slowly drifting back into a groggy feeling. _I should get some sleep,_ she thought to herself. She leaned her head back against the bricks and closed her eyes, fascination still in her mind.

Spot Conlon was jealous of Suave and Rookie. _The _Spot Conlon was jealous. Of Suave and Rookie. Rookie couldn't get over it, and somehow, it brought her pleasure. The fact that she had been able to get over it and get on with her life while Spot still had feelings for blew her mind. The thought of giving him hell everytime he saw her and knew she was taken made her practically giddy. She couldn't help but smile.

Wait. Was the fact that Spot still had feelings for her something to smile about? _Not that he has feelings for me,_ Rookie reminded herself mentally. _But that fact that he's jealous._

**Yes, sure, _that's_ the reason,** her contradicting self added as a final thought.

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**Author's Note****:**

**Well, that was a quick update!****I'm sorry this is such a short chapter, but it was absolutely necessary, and I hope you enjoyed the little dose of Spot.****Thank you for all the "Favorite Authors" and "Story Alerts" I have received.**

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And thank you to my lovely reviewers: **ilovenewsies**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** IrishStorm**,** **,** HadleyConlon**,** Kimiko16**,** **and** DollfaceConlon**. I don't know what I'd do without you guys! And keep reviewing, please! It really helps fuel my drive for this story, and I would LOVE to get over 200 reviews by the end of the fic (which is no where in sight, don't worry!).**

**I'm in a very newsie-ish mood, and muse is flowing, so hopefully I'll be updating VERY soon, hopefully within the next week.**

**The tite is inspired by "Gives You Hell" by the All American Rejects.  
**

**Love ya',  
xFlipperx**


	20. I Want You Back

Only Time Will Tell  
_A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_

**Chapter Twenty: I Want You Back**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Bleh._

**Author's Note****: Oh. My. God. Chapter Twenty. Here's a thing I thought I'd never see…**

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It was the last week of July. It had been a week since Brooklyn had attacked, and nothing was normal around the Manhattan Newsboys (and Girls) Lodging House.

Thankfully, no one had gotten seriously injured. Cuts and bruises were the main medical concern. Poor Skittery had gotten the worst of it. He wound up being clubbed in the back of the head and knocked out cold. But he had been up later that morning, a little dizzy, but ready to go out and carry the banner.

All the newsies had told Rookie that the fight had not lasted long at all. Rookie hardly imagined so, because it was just as dark out when she was awoken by Suave as it was when she fell asleep with Button and Scraps. "Dey was gone as fast as dey was heah," Jack had murmured as he helped bring Button and Scraps back downstairs to an awaiting Pirate, who was bandaging a nasty cut he had gotten along his leg.

David had burst in later that morning, and he and Jack had immediately began discussing things in a low whisper. The few things anyone else was able to catch was a bit about the shortness of the attack. After a few minutes, David had pulled away to explain to the awaiting newsies. "It was just a warning," he explained. "A taste of what they can do by themselves. Next time, they'll have the Bronx with them."

About a half an hour later, a messenger from Queens ran in, saying they were attacked as well. Jack swore loudly and kicked a bedpost. This was turning into much more than he could handle. He had a right to be angry, Rookie did the math in her head. This war had been dragged out for seven months now, and he was probably more than tired with it.

But the week had passed, and normality was estranged from their thoughts daily routines. Talker was constantly in and out of Manhattan, and Jack was always in and out of Queens. The rest of the newsies tried to maintain their regular routine, but there were more and more outbreaks of street fights all over the boroughs. Luckily for Rookie, she hadn't been jumped, and was hoping for some more good luck. Jack, meanwhile, was urging his newsies to stay closer and closer to the Lodging House. But since there were so many Manhattan newsies, it was a hard thing to do without imposing on each others' selling spots and taking profit away from each other. Everyone had started lowering the amount of papers they were selling a day. Even Jack, who could sell one hundred a day no problem, had lowered down to fifty. Rookie had lowered herself down from thirty to twenty, and sometimes fifteen, depending on the headline and how she could twist it.

She had been back only a month, and this war was getting on her nerves. She saw what it was doing to the ones she cared for, and she hated herself for running back to Brooklyn in January.

As she was pulling her suspenders over her shoulder, Jack approached her and pulled her aside. "Yoah shoit looks like shit," he commented when they were a bit of a distance away from the others. Normally, she would have been offended, but Jack wouldn't have said that without a point behind it. So Rookie looked over her shirt and found she had to agree with him. There were rips, tears, and places where the seams looked like they were going to break. The same went for her pants.

"It does look pretty bad, doesn't it?" she replied.

"I think s'time ya get some new clothes," he told her.

"Jack," she said, pausing and biting her lip. Her eyes swept around the room before returning to Jack. "I can't afford that."

"Ya don't hafta," he replied. "Kloppman does." Rookie cocked her head. "Ya sees, da Lodgin House takes cara dat foah yas. Ya get money foah one seta clothes every six monthes or so. An' toins out dat da two squoits, Button an' Scraps are due foah dere new clothes too. Sos I was wonderin' since dey seems ta like ya all right, if ya would mind takin' 'em down ta da taila ta get some new clothes?" Rookie shrugged, she really didn't know if she could.

"Would I be able to get some selling in?" she asked him.

"Shoah, shoah, if yas go now," Jack said. "Da guy we use does everything real fast an' real good, sos you'll be outta dere by noon or something, an' be able ta sell foah da aftanoon an' evenin' editions sos you an' yoah dog ain't gonna starve tonight."

"Then sure, I'll take them," Rookie said with a small smile. "Just let me get washed up. We'll go to the nun cart and get breakfast first, though." Jack nodded.

"Sounds good ta me, just go ta Kloppman foah da money an' make shoah ya sign yoah name sos he knows who's got dere clothes an' who needs 'em." Rookie nodded and Jack went to join the others.

Sighing at the thought of her new "assignment", Rookie ran her fingers through her hair and walked over to the washroom. After washing herself, she pulled her hair into a high ponytail and put her had over it. "Looks like ya got a tuma or somethin' growin outta yoah head, dere, Rook," Racetrack commented, a cigar already stuck in the corner of his mouth. Rookie stuck her tongue out on him and took her hat off, and made her pony tail lower. She replaced her cap and walked through the bunkroom, looking for Scraps and Button.

When she had gotten a hold of the two youngsters, she found Suave and told him where she was going. They kissed goodbye, and promised to meet up for dinner. "If nothin happens before then…" Suave trailed off, and Rookie nodded in agreement. This past week they all stood on tip-toe, treading very carefully. No one day was certain, and they were followed by uncertain nights where sleep was hard to find. The two kissed again before Rookie took the children and Bear downstairs. She got the money from Kloppman, signed the book, and took Scraps and Button out of the Lodging House.

Rookie yawned as she took the children to the nun's cart. Scraps and Button had no problem complaining on how they were practically dragged through the morning routine. Rookie calmly explained that they had to get to the tailor as easily as possible. And yet, they still complained. Tired from a rough night of tossing and turning, Rookie was slowly losing her patience. She forced herself to keep breathing evenly and counted to ten backwards in her head.

"Where are the others, child?" the nun asked Rookie as the sixteen year-old split her portion of bread with her growing pup.

"We left early this morning, sister," Rookie replied respectfully. "We need to get to the tailor for new clothes." The nun nodded and handed her a cup of tepid water. It did nothing to relieve the heat, and tasted rusty, but it hydrated her. She poured the rest down Bear's throat and gave the cup back. She waited for Scraps and Button to finish their meager rations and then continued along there way.

Jack had explained the best, fastest, and the safest way to get to the tailor's. In ten minutes time, the four found themselves outside a shop with a large awning hanging overhead, advertising _**Giovanni's Italian Tailor**__. _Rookie walked inside with the two children. They were immediately met by a short Italian man (that reminded Rookie strongly of Racetrack), who was waving his hand.

"No dog, no dog!" he exclaimed, and Rookie put her hands up.

"Sir," she said calmly. "She will cause no trouble, I promise you. I'll have her lay down wherever you want her to lay down, and she'll stay there, I promise." The little man stared at her with beady black eyes. He was hunched over, and his eyebrows were thick. Rookie supposed this was Giovanni.

"Okay, dog can stay," he said finally, slowly. "What can I do foah ya's?"

"We're in need of new work clothes," Rookie replied. "We're with the Manhattan newsies." Giovanni nodded his head and motioned his hand for them to follow him.

He led them into the back, where there were stacks of fabrics and hangers of shirts, pants, suspenders, hats, everything, lining the perimeter of the room. In the middle, there was a stool with a little tool box next to it. It was ajar, and Rookie could see thread, needles, pin cushions, scissors, and various forms of measuring tape was practically spilling out of it.

"Who's first?" he asked. Rookie observed he had a weird accent. Some words he pronounced with a New York accent, while others sounded as if he had just gotten off the boat from Italy. But when his question registered, she pointed to Scraps. "The dog goes in da corna, okay?" Rookie nodded and brought Bear over to the corner. She had her dog lay down and told her to stay while she returned to watch Scraps be fitted.

When Scraps was done, a tan shirt, brown pants, brown suspenders, a new brown cap, and black shoes were packaged and piled.

Next was Button. She fussed and fidgeted, and Giovanni was obviously getting upset. "Button!" Rookie finally said in a severe tone. The small child looked frightened, Scraps jumped, and even Bear looked up in her corner and laid her ears flat against her head. Rookie regretted her tone immediately, but Giovanni wasn't the only one who had had enough of her attitude. So she continued in her strict tone. "Stand still and let the man fit you for clothes. The longer you hold still, the faster it will go, you understand?"

"Yeah, Rookie," Button replied meekly, and when the small child looked away, Rookie put a hand to her forehead. She really hadn't meant to come off that sternly, but she had just gotten so aggravated.

When Button was done, a packaged light pink shirt, black suspenders and matching pants, and a black cap were added to the pile. Her shoes were still good, so she wouldn't need another pair for a while. Rookie made a mental note to tell Kloppman when they got back, so when her shoes finally were worn out, the little girl could get a new pair without a problem.

Finally, it was Rookie's turn, and over two hours had past. She had never realized what a tiresome process this would turn out to be. She was bound to take longer, because she was a lot taller than either Scraps or Button, and there was a lot more to cover.

After an hour of trying on and tailoring this shirt and that, Rookie finally had her new clothes. Somehow, she had wound up with a light-colored shirt. Somehow, pink dye and orange dye had mixed to create a creamy orange color. It was a bit ugly, but it fit loosely with quite some room to grow. Not to mention, it was a shirt. It was the shirt she would be primarily using for the next six months.

Rookie also got a new pair of shoes, a new pair of black pants and black suspenders. Giovanni offered to replace her hat, but she denied. Even though it was faded and dirty, it was hers, and there was a part of her that didn't want to part with it.

Spot had chosen this outfit for her when she decided to run away, those many months ago. Months that seemed like years. This hat was a memory of all that had been, all that was before. She couldn't let something so nostalgic, so poignant with meaning, be replaced.

Rookie paid the tailor and got the change from her not getting a hat and Button not getting new shoes. She stuffed them in her pocket and piled the parcels in her arms. When they were stacked, she could barely see around them, and the pile would lean hazardously from side to side as she walked. She was lucky that most were at work at this time of day, and the crowd that was on the street avoided the odd looking sixteen year-old girl dressed as a boy, traveling with the two small children.

Her apology for yelling at Button and for startling Scrap a bit was to carry their items. She was starting to regret it, but she knew being so harsh with Button had been wrong. At one point, Rookie had tried to tie some of the load to Bear, but the pup had nothing of that. She fidgeted and fussed so much that Rookie just took the packages back.

Someone ahead of Rookie stopped short. To avoid a collision with that person, she was forced to stop short as well. Whoever had been walking behind her hadn't been paying much attention, and collided into Rookie. The parcels went flying and she went stumbling with a sharp gasp. Her balance shifted, and she fell on her hands and knees.

"Take Bear," she hissed at Scraps. The little boy grabbed Bear's leash and held tight, even though the dog's head was well half his height, now.

Angered, Rookie rose to her feet and turned to the person who had collided with her with an almost growling: "Watch where you're going, you bum!" She heard Button squeal and Scraps yell bravely when Rookie's suspenders were grabbed near the shoulder and she was dragged face-to-face with her collide-er. Rookie could hear Bear barking and growling, but the young dog still had too much cowardice to attack.

"Whoya callin' a bum, princess?" the guy asked nastily. His breath was rancid, but Rookie didn't utter cough, she didn't look away from his sharp gray eyes. His black hair was under his cap, and his muscles bulged underneath his gray shirt, which was just a smidge too small for him. A newsie obviously, and Rookie became frightened. He looked oddly familiar, and she could have sworn she had seen him in Brooklyn.

She gulped.

But then a third voice came in just as a gold tip cane fell between this unknown newsie and Rookie. "Now, Poka, is dat any way ta treat a lady?" Rookie didn't have to look over to know that it was Spot Conlon who had come to her rescue (_Who else carried that cane around, anyway?_ she had thought to herself). His tone was silky smooth, yet so venomous, it hardened the facial expression of this "Poker", and raised the hair on the back of Rookie's neck. Scraps and Button were silenced, and even Bear had ceased barking and growling.

"But, boss, she ain't no lady," Poker protested through his teeth, not letting go of Rookie's suspenders. "She's a 'Hattan newsie."

"An' you ain't gonna be alive no moah if yous don't let go a' her," Spot replied, his tone still smooth, but it had become firm and commanding. Poker released Rookie with a shove, and she stumbled backwards. Rookie grabbed Bear's leash from Scraps and pat her head gently. She watched the exchange between Spot and Poker.

"No wonda ya don't got a goil," Spot said nastily. "An' if I evah see ya act like dat again, I'll make shoah ya don't nevah get one. Now get back ta Brooklyn. I's heah on business, an' if you or anyone else messes dis up…"

"But-"

"But nothin'!" Spot exclaimed. "Ain'tcha been listenin? I ain't got no patience foah ya now. Now get back ovah da Bridge. If I even heah a little cheep-cheep from little boidies dat chyou was heah, you. Will. Pay. _Now_ _get goin'_!"

Rookie was still standing there when Poker disappeared from sight and Spot turned. The look on his face startled her. It was almost…apologetic. "Sorry 'bout dese," he said, bending down and helping Rookie collect her parcels. Rookie was still silent as she picked up the wrapped items.

"Button, Scraps," she said quietly. The two children looked up at her. "Go on back to the Lodging House. If Jack is there, tell him that Spot Conlon is here on business, and he will be arriving shortly. I'll take your clothes home, okay?" The two children nodded. "Good. Run." The two nodded again, and Scraps grabbed Button's hand and began sprinting down the street.

Rookie straightened up with the parcels she had picked up and looked to Spot. "Thank you," she said as she took the ones he had picked up. "For everything." Spot nodded, and the two started walking.

"Yoah welcome," he replied. "Poka shouldn'ta been heah, not tahday. Dey was supposed ta know dat I was heah on business an'-"

"They shouldn't be here at all," Rookie replied.

"Ain't it a free country?" Spot retorted.

"Not when people are getting hurt," she replied.

"Sos dat makes it unfree?"

"Sure, if you want to look at it that way," Rookie replied.

"Why does it change?" Spot challenged.

"Because we, as the newsies, have separated ourselves, almost into different countries," Rookie told him. "And…" she trailed off and paused.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Spot, I'm doing it again," she told him.

"Doin' what?"

"Turning into Antoinette," she replied.

"Who?"

"My…I mean, Brooklyn's sister."

"Oh, I didn't think ya were," Spot replied, which made Rookie feel a little bit better. "An I's met Brooklyn's sister." Rookie's eyes darted from the parcels she was holding to Spot. "Yeah," he continued, not even looking at Rookie. "Some pretty inerestin' stuff happened afta ya left in January."

"You didn't get put in the Refuge or anything…right?" Rookie asked, and held back a sigh of relief as he shook his head. Relief? She shouldn't be feeling relief for Spot Conlon. She watched him smirk and wondered why in the world he would be smirking. So she turned her head sharply and kept walking.

"Sos, ya got new clothes?" Spot finally asked, breaking the silence. They were close to the Lodging House now, only about three or so minutes.

"Mmmhmm," Rookie replied. Just as she said that, they walked off a curb and she tripped. She was sure she was going to drop the parcels and fall again, but Spot came to the rescue…again. He stepped in front of her and steadied both her and the package.

"Ya want me ta take somea' t'ose?" he asked her. Rookie didn't give him an answer before he took a few parcels so that they were carrying an equal amount.

"Thank you, but you didn't have-"

"Yoah welcome," Spot cut her off, and Rookie smiled.

"Sos, why was chyou and a couple a' kids walkin' round wit'out anyone else?" he asked her, and Rookie was surprised by the question. "It ain't safe, as ya saw befoah."

"Is that a threat?" Rookie asked defensively. Spot shook his head.

"As much as people like ta think so, I ain't no tyrant," he told her. "Yeah, me newsies listen ta me, an yeahs, if dey don't, dere's trouble. But I don't breathe down theah necks. They's free ta do what they want, s'long as they ain't doin' anythin' stupid. What Poka did ta ya was stupid, an' coulda caused Brooklyn a lotta trouble." Rookie nodded. Even though she disagreed, she didn't want to fight with Spot, after he had helped her so much already today.

There was an awkward silence between them for about a minute, and the turn to the Lodging House was only two blocks away.

"Is dat da hat I's gotcha in Decemba?" Spot asked, looking at Rookie's head. She nodded. "Why didn'tcha get a new one?" Rookie shrugged.

"It's still doing it's job, isn't it?" she replied, looking up at the brim. "It's been with me through a lot. I couldn't just replace it." She paused. "Not to mention, it saved money."

"But chyou don't haveta pay foah it heah in 'Hattan, right?" Spot asked. Rookie shook her head. "Den why?"

"Just in case someone needed it more than I did," she replied, now clearly thinking of ways in which extra money could help. "If we needed it to buy medical supplies, or even if Kloppman wanted to go out and get a beer to enjoy himself. Someone might need it more than I do. This is just a hat, it'll last me six months. But who knows what'll happen tomorrow?"

"Dat's real nice a' ya, Rook," Spot complemented. His tone was serious, and Rookie smiled. "Besides, I knew ya could nevah get ridda somethin' I gave ta ya." Rookie, hearing the sarcasm in his voice, laughed. She looked over at Spot, and he was smiling. She stopped laughing and bit back another.

_Spot, jealous…_she thought to herself as she willed herself not to laugh. _He loves this…_us_ talking like we're friends._

"What's so funny?" Spot asked her, and she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," Rookie replied with a smirk of her own. He gave her a strange look, and that made her widen her smirk into a teeth-showing smile.

"I think somethin' in 'Hattan's madeya crazy, Rook," Spot said, his facial expression wary, but his eyes light. Oh, his eyes. Rookie bit her lip as she realized that she had missed those eyes. So full of expression, yet so guarded.

"I think so too," Rookie replied. "Or _someone_ in Manhattan…" She trailed off and sighed, thinking of Suave. Oh, her beloved Suave.

"He treats ya good?" The quietness of Spot's words surprised Rookie. And did she detect an edge? Jealousy? No. Protective? She was momentarily confused. Why would there be a protective, an almost caring edge in Spot's words? But she forced a nod.

"Yes," she replied at a volume to match Spot's. "Very well, in fact." She sighed, thinking of all the things Suave had done for her. For all the things that _Dawson_ had done for _Brooklyn_. Emotion caught in her throat, and she became very focused on what she was carrying, and what she wasn't.

"We're almost there, Spot," she pointed out as they drew within feet of the turn down the street to the Lodging House. "I can take those things back." She figured she had noticed the change of her demeanor, because his changed as well.

"No ya can't," he replied in a drawl, which caused Rookie to straighten up. But he smiled. "I toldya I was gonna take dese back witcha, an' yoah not letting' me off easy. T'ink of it as payment foah yoah whole t'ing wit Poka befoah."

"Spot, you've done more than enough," she protested.

"I'll be da one ta make that decision," he retorted. Rookie rolled her eyes, but said thanks again and focused on the parcels again.

"Ya should stop that," Spot said suddenly, just as the two turned the corner.

"Stop what?" Rookie asked. She was surprised by Spot's tone.

"Frowning," he replied. Rookie was taken aback. He couldn't be saying this…

"What?"

"Nothin," he replied, realizing that he had completely made himself vulnerable. Rookie could see that he was embarrassed. "Nevah mind I said it…I didn't say nothin'." Rookie nodded, but smiled, just for him. She couldn't believe what he had said. It threw her back to January. January in North Carolina, when she was Brooklyn, and Suave was Dawson.

_**&FLASHBACK&**_

"_You should do that more often," Dawson told her as she recovered from tripping while they danced._

"_Do what?" she asked._

"_Smile."_

_**&ENDFLASHBACK&**_

And all of a sudden, Rookie heard her name being called. She looked up to see Suave walking toward her. "Hello," she said smoothly. He met her with a kiss. She went to pull away, but he kept her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, adding fervor to the kiss. She almost forgot she was standing in the middle of the street, where others were present.

Spot cleared his throat and Rookie quickly pulled away. Blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment, but Suave was completely unfazed. Pretending to just realize Spot was there, Suave said a brief hello and moved his arm around Rookie possessively. Rookie didn't know if Suave was being jealous or protective, all she knew is that when he wrapped his arm around her, he hit her ribs and she let out a yelp.

"Suave!" she snapped angrily, pulling away from him. "Why did you do that? You know my sides are still hurting!" Suave's eyes swept from Rookie to Spot and back to Rookie and his brow furrowed and set.

"So kill me for tryin' ta show how much I care about you," Suave snapped back, surprising Rookie.

"You weren't trying to show me you cared," she replied hotly. "You were trying to show Spot that I'm your girl now, not his. As if he was some threat to you."

"Rookie, you're defending the wrong person," Suave snapped.

"No, you're trying to convince me to."

"Fine," he snapped again. "I see how it is. I'll tell Cowboy he's here." He turned and stalked off, mumbling angrily under his breath. And suddenly, Rookie got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She felt bad for what she had just said to Suave, but also a little embarrassment on the way they had acted in front of Spot.

"I'm sorry, Spot," she told the King of Brooklyn as she turned to him. "That shouldn't have happened. I'll take those." She took the parcels quickly. "Thanks for all your help today, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there. Thanks again, and sorry for Suave's behavior." Before Spot could answer, she turned and bustled after Suave, trying to balance the parcels and keep them from falling.

"Suave, get over here," she demanded as she entered the Lodging House. She placed the parcels on the table, along with the left over money from Kloppman. He ignored her. She walked up to him and grabbed his upper arm and planted her feet. He turned around and looked at her. It was hard to read his face.

"What are you thinking?" she asked him, looking into his eyes.

"That I'm stupid," he replied. Rookie sighed and shook her head.

"You're not stupid, Suave," she told him. "Anything but stupid. How you acted was rude, yes, but understandable. I'm sorry for the way I acted, as well. I shouldn't have been so short with you. It was the pain in my side. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but I just snapped. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Suave replied.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She brought her hands to his neck and wrapped them around it. He placed his hands gently on her hips and deepened the kiss. Even when someone walked by (and Rookie had a strong feeling it was Spot), they didn't break apart.

"I love you," Suave said as they broke apart, minutes later.

"I love you too," Rookie replied, running a gentle hand through Suave's dirty blonde hair. "And I'm sorry to ruin this moment, but I have to get the new clothes upstairs, change and then get out selling. I liked my dinner so much last night, I decided that I was going to have it again tonight." Suave smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"All right," he said. "I have to go too. Cowboy really likes usin' me as a messenger." The two smiled at each other, kissed once more and went their separate ways.

**&x&**

Rookie's stomach was grumbling, and Bear was whining when the two returned to the Lodging House later that night. She could not wait to sink her teeth into Tibby's juicy roast beef and have a tall glass of water. It was extremely hot out today, and Rookie was also starting to feel a little dehydrated and a little dizzy. Not wanting to get sick, she was moving quickly.

When she got to her bunk, she stored her earnings and took her meager earnings and trotted downstairs. Bear tagged eagerly at her masters heels, probably just as hungry as Rookie was, if not more so.

When she went outside, she heard harsh words being said between two people. She listened more carefully. It was Jack and Spot, and the argument was becoming heated. Deciding it was best if she didn't eavesdrop, she continued on her way, ignoring them. But it wasn't long before she saw Spot walk ahead of her. His pace was quick, and his stance was swift and guarded. Though her better instinct warned her against it, she called out to him.

"Hey, Spot!" she called. He turned around, and Rookie was startled by his face. His eyes were hard, his lips a straight line.

"What doya want, Rook?" he snapped. She ignored the snappiness. She guessed that whatever Jack had said to him had to have been a low blow.

"Are you hungry?" she spoke in a quiet, steady tone. She didn't want to get him upset, she didn't want to make any false indication that she had any feelings what-so-ever about him. "Bear and I are just heading to Tibby's for dinner. But if you'd like to join me, we can go somewhere else where there's not so many Manhattaners around. I can see you've had quite enough of us already."

"How would yoah Suave-y feel bout dat?" Spot asked. His tone was still stiff. His jaw was tight, and when he ended his sentence Rookie could see he was grinding his teeth.

"He doesn't own me, Spot," Rookie said. Her voice was still steady, but a little gentler. "Besides, why do you care if he cares or not? When does the great Spot Conlon care what anyone else thinks?" She smiled at him, hoping to encourage him to come with her and have something to eat. Hopefully, she would be able to get him to calm down. Part of her just wanted to get him off the street and out of a bad mood so some poor sap (or a Manhattan newsie) wouldn't get the tail-end of his anger and wind up nothing but a puddle in the gutter.

Spot released a tight-lipped smile and shook his head. He walked toward her and tapped her shoulder lightly with her cane. "New shoit?" he asked her. Rookie looked down at the pink-orange color and grimaced, nodding. "It shoahly is somethin' else."

"I know it's ugly," Rookie said with a smile. "But it's a shirt. And besides, the color is kind of growing on me. It'll grow on you too, eventually." Spot raised his eyebrows.

"I ain't too shoah bout dat one," he replied. "But den again, nothing-" He cut himself off and looked around. He pushed Rookie gently around the corner, down the next block.

"What's wrong?" she asked him as he began to walk swiftly.

"Wheah we goin'?" he asked. "I's wanna get dere fast sos ya won't be seen wit me. I'm pretty shoah dat Cowboy ain't gonna like dat yoah inviting' me ta dinner." Rookie paused and bit her lip. Before she could tell him that she didn't know of any place other than Tibby's, he nodded. "Don't worry, I know a place."

After a series of twists and turns, they finally came to a small restaurant called The Central. Rookie looked inside the large window, and saw that it wasn't crowded, not at all. There was one newsie in there, and that was Cat. _Great,_ Rookie thought to herself. _She'll run off and tell Cowboy_. But, she was facing away from the entrance, and she looked engrossed in the conversation she was having with a person Rookie couldn't clearly see.

They walked in, and Rookie walked on Spot's left side, hoping to be covered slightly from Cat. She was also using the 'I can't see you, you can't see me' mentality, as the other newsie had gone out of her line of vision.

Spot led them to a table all the way in the back, nice and secluded. "Let me sit watching the door," she told him as he went to sit in the seat she had been eyeing. She dropped the volume of her voice. "So I can watch one Manhattener that's sitting right over there, all right?" Spot nodded and sat in the chair across from her, so that his back was facing the entrance.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" Rookie asked after sitting through a few minutes in silence. They had ordered their food, and that was the only time she had heard Spot speak since he told her he knew of a different restaurant.

"No offence ta 'Hatten, but when yoah leada wants ta be, he can be a real son of a bitch," Spot replied tightly. So he had gone back to that. All right, it was time for Rookie to -yet again- talk him down.

"Well, no offence to Brooklyn, but when their leader wants to be, he can be a real stubborn son of a bitch." It was one of the rare occasions that Rookie cursed, and the only reason she had was to make Spot look up to see her smiling. He narrowed his eyes at her and looked down. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "At least I speak the truth with a smile." Nothing. _Gah, _she thought to herself. _What's it going to take?_

They sat in silence until their meal came. It seemed to just occur to Spot that Rookie had ordered two sets of her meal. She was very aware that he was watching her when she placed a plate full of food down next to her, in front of Bear. Bear's ears went forward, and the dog began licking off the mashed potatoes on her plate. She would save the chicken Rookie had ordered as a special treat for last.

Rookie looked up and caught Spot's eye. She was expecting him to say something, but he just held his gaze. "Thank you," Rookie finally said. He raised and arched an eyebrow, and Rookie continued. "For convincing Cowboy to let me keep her." She motioned with her head to her large pup who was presently scarfing down her chicken. "I don't know where I'd be without her."

"Ya say thanks a lot, didja know dat?" Spot pointed out, but he nodded as if he was saying 'you're welcome'.

"I do, don't I?"

"Ya shouldn't be thankin' me, Rook." His tone was no longer tight, but it was low. Every single syllable in his Brooklyn accented words was pronounced carefully.

"I know there are _some things_ that I _certainly_ shouldn't thank you for," Rookie said, her tone gaining a bit of an edge. "But Bear is something that I certainly should thank you for." She shrugged. "And besides: it seems that as of late, you've managed to come to my rescue on several separate occasions."

"Yoah just a magnet foah accidents, ain'tcha?" Spot asked her.

"I think me being anywhere near you brings me bad luck," Rookie quipped in reply, taking a small bite of her chicken. "Look at our track record. There was January," she referred to the month, and not the events, so as not to make it completely awkward for either one of them, "then Manhattan's attack on Brooklyn where your lovely scout nearly beat the life out of me, I nearly broke my sides walking up the Brooklyn Bridge, and then my lovely encounter with your…Poker, was his name?" Spot's lips cracked the tiniest smile, and Rookie fell satisfied. She continued: "Now watch, on my walk home, my foot will be run over by a trolley or something."

"I ain't gonna let no trolley run ovah yoah feet," Spot said, the tiny smile still lingering on his lips.

"And what would give you the idea that you're walking me back to the Lodging House?" Rookie asked with a sweet smile but a sarcastic tone.

"I ain't gonna letcha walk back in the dark," Spot told her firmly. "'Specially if Poka or anyone else is still walkin' around."

"Didn't you tell them to leave?" Rookie questioned.

"Poka likes to test his limits," Spot replied with a shrug. "Sos yoah walkin' back ta da Lodgin' House wit me. Got it?"

"Got it," Rookie echoed.

She sighed, and looked for another conversation starter. She was sure, if she persisted, she would get him relaxed enough that they might be able to hold a decent conversation until it _was_ dark, and they could walk back without being seen.

Rookie looked at him while he was looking down at his food, picking at his chicken. They had ordered the same thing. Chicken and mash potatoes. The second cheapest thing on the menu. Her eyes fell upon his neck. Down by his slightly exposed collar bone was a small bruise. She raised her eyebrows. A hickey. _Huh,_ she thought to herself.

"What?" Spot had noticed her staring at him. She smiled and shook her head.

"Nothing," she replied airily.

"_What_?" Spot snapped. Not wanting to draw attention to their table, she shushed him. A smile played her lips.

"So…who is she?" she asked coolly, with the most nonchalant attitude she could muster. Spot looked at her as if she had spoken to him in Chinese. Rookie concealed a chuckle and tapped her neck, in a spot near the collar, lightly. He touched his own neck lightly. He made a face Rookie couldn't decipher and looked back down at his food. He remained silent, which told Rookie that the topic had been thrown off the table.

Awkward silence.

"Ya know, I'm sorry," Spot said so suddenly that Rookie startled and almost choked on the piece of chicken she was chewing.

"Y…you're…what?" she asked between coughs.

"I said I'm sorry," Spot repeated. Rookie almost held her breath. "Ya know, foah January. I shoulda necah said what I did. I nevah shoulda called ya what I did. It ain't true."

"Then why did you say it?" Rookie asked, her voice getting tight. "You heard everything I had told Mush. You heard me tell him that I only had eyes for you. And yet, you said those things. You sent me through so much, Spot. Why? For what?" She paused, looking down and playing with a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her pony tail.

"Ya didn't have ta leave," Spot replied quietly. He was right, she didn't. And oh, the things that could've been if she had stayed in New York in January. Would there have been a war? Would she and Spot ever resolved their argument? Where would _they_ be now? She put her head in her hands and shook it gently.

"Why did you say those things to me, Spot?" she asked him from behind the cover of her hands. "That was the only thing I asked."

"I was jealous," Spot replied, very quietly.

"But you heard what I had told Mush."

"But ya _kissed_ da bum!"

"He's not a bum, Spot! And I kissed him to prove a point!"

"Yeah, ya proved a point all right."

"_Excuse me_?" Rookie was staring at Spot incredulously. "Don't you dare sit there and pretend to feel sorry and apologize, and go right back on your word. You know what?" She shoved the last piece of chicken in her mouth, picked Bear's licked-clean plate up and put it on the table. Still chewing her food, she told Spot; "I'm leaving." She put a dime on the table and went to walk away.

But she was stopped. His cane came flying out from his side and went right in her way. "No, ya ain't." He paused and put his cane back while she stopped and stared at him. "Dat didn't come out good. Sit down an' let me explain bettah."

"This better be good," Rookie replied. She sat back down in her seat and had Bear lay down next to her chair.

"Look, what I meant was dat ya proved a point 'bout me," he told her. "All Mush said…every woid about me was right. How I treated ya like shit…how I always compahed ya ta _her_." He shook her head, and Rookie realized that he was talking about Song. She bit her lip, all the old feelings of resentment rising in her chest. "I was bad. An' ta call ya a slut. I dunno what I was t'inkin'. But alls I know nows is dat I'm sorry."

Rookie placed her hands on the table and folded them. She looked at Spot, directly into his eyes. She searched for any trace of deceit, and could not find one. She sighed softly. "You're forgiven." The words slipped out of her mouth in a whisper. But the words had fallen so easily, and her chest deflated with the release of pressure. Spot smiled at Rookie, and out of her peripheral vision she saw his hand twitch. He was debating to take her hand. So calmly, she extended her hand to him.

They shook hands, both with wide, toothy-smiles.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Rookie admitted.

"Ya thought it would be hard?" Spot questioned. Rookie nodded her head.

"Oh yes, yes I did. Spot, I don't think you realize how much you sent me through." She looked down at her food. "I lost my uncle, my friend, my dog. But then I remembered that I also found something. Suave. Well, Dawson at the time. Everything happens for a reason, I keep forcing that into my mind." Spot's face held an odd expression. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Spot."

"Don't be," he replied, and quickly, his facial expression changed. Rookie sipped gently on her soda, watching him carefully. His tomcat smile appeared. He looked down briefly, and when he looked back up, he asked: "So, areya jealous?"

Rookie nearly spat the soda in his face. She forced herself to swallow the drink and clapped her hand to her mouth and took a few deep breaths before shaking her head. "So there is a girl?" Her voice was shaking with the chuckle she was trying to suppress. All this time she thought that Spot was jealous, was he?

He nodded. Rookie's stomach flipped. _Huh._

"And…?" she pressed.

"An' that's all," he replied. "It's nothin'." Rookie nodded and shook her head.

"So it's _one of those _girls, huh?" she asked with a small smile.

"I don't wanna tawk 'bout it." Rookie cocked her head and looked at him.

"What is wrong with you, Spot?" she asked him. "You're moods and actions and face are throwing me off. One second you're up, the next you're down. You're practically going sideways on me, now." Spot shook his head. "When my head starts spinning round and round and eventually pops off my shoulders, you're going to have to explain to Cowboy what you did to one of his newsies."

"It's nothin' like that," Spot said with a small smile on his lips. "It's just, I don't wantya ta t'ink theahs anythin' goin on between me an' this goil."

"Except hickeys," Rookie quipped smartly with a playful grin. "Spot, it's fine. Why would you care if I thought anything was going on between you and whoever this girl is?"

"Because-" Spot began his sentence, but Rookie's eyes drew up to the doors. They had just flown open, and Talker came flying through in a rage. Her face was red, and her eyes were flashing. Was that blood on her shirt.

"Shit," Rookie murmured under her breath, Spot didn't notice, he just kept talking.

And then it happened. Rookie saw it in slow motion, giving her the perfect time to react. Talker's flashing eyes met the back of Spot's head, and she charged. Rookie couldn't decipher how fast Talker was moving, but suddenly, she was moving too. Somehow, she had flown out of her chair and was now diving at Talker. She was inches from Spot, and Rookie aimed for her mid section.

Somehow, in those mere milliseconds, she realized how much Spot meant to her, as a friend. The way they were acting around each other, the way he was being so kind to her. She remembered how much she loved him as a friend. Her heart already taken by Suave, she realized that she wanted Spot back. But as a friend. It was when the two became romantic that their problems started. But as friends, they could be unstoppable. He saved her and helped her in so many ways in the short time that they had met. And she was now throwing herself at an allied newsie to protect him. This was all very strange to her.

Rookie's thought process was cut short when she collided with Talker heavily, and a gasp escaped the Queens Leader's lips. Rookie threw her weight to her front and sent the both of them flying into the ground. When they hit the ground, suddenly there were others grabbing her. She was grabbed by the scruff of her neck and pulled up off the ground. She looked to see David looking at her, and he held her arm tightly. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to hold her, that she wasn't going to attack the Queens Leader again, but her eyes focused on Talker.

Jack had picked Talker up, and she was seething, trying to escape and get to Spot.

"YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, struggling against Jack's hold. Rookie looked back to see Spot's reaction. He was standing up, back rigid, eyes wandering from Rookie to Talker. He was also holding onto Bear's rope leash, restraining the barking and growling pup from reaching Rookie.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Talker screamed at him, struggling fiercely against Jack's grip. "YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED MY SISTER! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, CONLON!"

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**Author's Note****: **

**Oh damn, what a way to end a chapter, huh? **

**Sorry this took so long. My riding instructor recently acquired a barn, and I've been there everyday for the passed two weeks, helping out and riding A LOT of horses.**

**I don't know when Chapter 21 will be out, but hopefully sometime soon. I'm getting a horse of my own, though, and the fact that there's only two months of school left (oh. My. God, right?), I'm going to be very busy. But, I've planned up to Chapter Thirty so far, and there are still MANY to go afterwards. You're looking at quite possibly a thirty-five to forty-five chapter fic, here, so be ready!**

**A huge thanks to **Kimiko16**,** ilovenewsies**,** elleestJenn**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** DollfaceConlon**,** IrishStorm**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** HadleyConlon**,** CorruptMe**,** Seren McGowan**, and **Kathryn Mason-Sykes **for reviewing Chapter Nineteen! And thanks to all who have added me to their "Favorite Author", "Favorite Story", and "Story Alert" lists! I couldn't have done it without you, and I say this almost every chapter because it is sooo true!**

**Much love,**

**xFlipperx**

**P.S. This Chapter name, "I Want You Back" is a song by 'NSYNC. It's mostly supposed to be from Spot's point of view, but in a way Rookie's because she realizes how much she missed Spot as a friend.**


	21. Whoa

Only Time Will Tell

_A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_

**Chapter Twenty-One: Whoa**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and the plot._

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Jack's eyes flashed from Rookie to Spot. Suspicion was visible, and Rookie was cautious. Suddenly, Cat was at Jack's side. Rookie almost swore under her breath. She had forgotten about Cat. Perhaps causing this much attention was a bad idea. By the murderous fire burning in Cat's sharp green eyes, it was _obviously _a _very_ bad idea.

"Come," Jack said, his tone eerily steady. "We's goin' back ta da Lodgin' House."

Rookie shrugged off David's grip and walked over to Spot. She took Bear's leash from him, jerking it a little. They both mumbled thanks under their breath, almost in the same tone. Their words were both edged and tight. Neither was angry with the other, rather the ones who stood around him, those who had interrupted their dinner.

As Jack forcibly turned Talker and pushed her out the door, Rookie and Bear were ushered by David. Cat took the tail end, watching Spot carefully.

Talker's accusation played in Rookie's mind. It couldn't be true. From what Rookie knew, Spot had been in Manhattan since the early afternoon. If the murder of Talker's sister had occurred recently, it couldn't have been Spot.

_But it could've been another under orders from Spot,_ she thought to herself as she walked straight-faced behind Jack and Talker.

**But he **did** tell Poker to go back to Brooklyn,** her usually irrational self rationalized. **He told Poker directly that he didn't want any trouble today. If it truly was a Brooklynite's doing, they weren't under orders from Spot.**

_But what if he was just trying to protect me? What if by "Going back to Brooklyn," Spot meant going somewhere else, just not Manhattan?_

**Why would Spot want to cause **any** trouble on the day that he comes to Manhattan to discuss things with Cowboy? **

_True…_

**Hmm…**

'Hmm', was right. This was a very trying situation. And as Rookie stared up at the night sky, she realized that she had bigger problems to worry about. She had just attacked the Queen of Queens, a strong ally of Manhattan. She had attacked an ally, to defend an enemy. Whatever trust she had gained from the Newsies over the past month had a very real possibility of being shattered. Hopefully, they would believe her when she told them it was an act to avoid a larger conflict.

Hopefully.

A sigh escaped her lips as she saw the glowing stars, but returned her eyes to the street ahead of her. They were going to be arriving at the lodging house any moment, and she had to be mentally prepared for what might happen, if worst came to worst.

When they arrived at the Lodging House, they were met by Racetrack and Itey. The two of them looked over the six of them suspiciously. "'ey dere Cowboy, wha' happened heah?" he asked. Rookie saw his eyes lock on Spot, and then look over from the blank-faced Rookie to livid Cat to tear-streaked Talker. "Wha'did da bum-"

"Go inside, you two," Jack ordered. "Up ta da bunkroom."

The five (seven, counting Race and Itey) walked up to the bunkroom. When they reached the floor, Rookie broke apart from the group and began walking Bear over to their bunk. "Wheah ya goin?" Jack snapped. Rookie didn't turn around as she replied:

"Having Bear stay on the bed, I don't want her getting over-excited."

When Bear was on the bed and the command to stay was given, Rookie returned to the group. She sidled up next to David, putting him strategically in between herself and Spot. Talker was being held back by Jack. The Queens leader kept looking back and fourth from Spot to Rookie, looking absolutely murderous. Rookie's jade eyes then moved to Cat, who was staring straight at Rookie.

If looks could kill…

"Now, someone bettah 'splain what da hell is goin' on," Racetrack said, cutting the tense air with a knife.

"Dat's exactly what I'd like ta know," Spot replied, his voice lazy and nonchalant.

"Bastard!" Talker hissed. "You know exactly what this is about! You killed Ringer!" Rookie supposed Ringer was Talker's sister.

"I didn't kill nobody," Spot replied, still as calm as ever. Rookie marveled this. He was being accused of murder and yet was the picture of calm. _The wonder of Spot Conlon,_ Rookie mused to herself as Talker's shrill voice cut the air again.

"Liar!" she hissed. "You dirty, filthy, son-of-a-bitch! You killed her!"

"No, I didn't." This time, Spot's voice was defensive.

"When was she killed?" Rookie spoke up, cutting Talker off from yelling at Spot again. Talker looked at her, eyes narrowing and fists clenched.

"Not two hours ago," she replied.

"Then it's impossible for Spot to have directly killed your sister, or even commanded someone to do it," Rookie replied. She was keeping her tone calm, but it was hard when four others were staring you down. David, Jack, Talker, and Cat were watching her carefully, analyzing every word, every movement. Spot was staring at Talker, his eyes narrowed.

"He was with me for the passed hour," Rookie explained. "And he's been in Manhattan since early afternoon. Cowboy can confirm that; I heard them arguing just before I left for dinner, and I saw him when he first came."

"Then he told someone else to do it!" Talker objected.

"Maybe he did, but not while he was here," Rookie replied. "He saved my butt from one of his newsies that was planning on beating the daylights out of me. Told him to go back to Brooklyn."

"But this is _you_ we're talking about," the Queens leader counteracted. "We all know about how he feels about _you_."

"This isn't me we're talking about," Rookie snapped. "He told his newsie that he didn't want _any trouble today_. He told his newsie to go back to Brooklyn and take any other Brooklynite he met along the way back with him." There was a silence.

"And den what happened?" Jack asked.

"After Poker left, Spot and I walked to the Lodging House," Rookie replied, leaving out that the King of Brooklyn had carried her parcels. "And then I suppose you two had your meeting."

"And den?"

"Well, I went out and sold," Rookie replied with a shrug. "I came back here, got my dinner money and was just about to head to Tibby's when I hear you two fighting. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I continue on my way. But not two minutes later, Spot brushes passed me in an apparent rage. Feeling sorry for-"

"For Spot coz he got yelled at?" Cat snapped. "So ya invite him ta dinner? Fratanizin' wit da enemy. _Traitor._"

"I'm not a traitor," Rookie snapped, her voice quiet and tight. It gained volume and strength as she continued: "Let me finish my sentence before you go off making assumptions!" She paused, and continued. "_As I was saying_…I felt sorry for anyone who got in Spot's way while he was in this mood. This includes Manhattan newsies. I didn't want him to get pissed off enough to hurt a 'Hattaner or some poor sap in the street. So I invited him to dinner so I could keep a watch on him and make sure he calmed down before he went back on his way to Brooklyn. I invited him to dinner to avoid a greater conflict."

"And den ya attacked Talker," Cat concluded.

"_No_!" Rookie hissed, glaring at Cat. "But if you don't shut your fat mouth and let me finish-"

"Finish." Jack's voice cut off Rookie's sentence and pulled her back into her place. She was still glaring at Cat when she continued.

"I didn't attack Talker. I blocked her from attacking Spot."

"_He killed my sister!"_ Talker's words, followed by a dry sob, split through the bunkroom, causing everyone within to silence.

"You're forgetting one very important thing, Talker," Rookie said quietly, almost in a whisper. "You killed his cousin."

"I didn't kill anyone!" Talker defended. "I was-"

"Somewhere else, I know," Rookie cut off. "But you had someone kill Spike. It's a known fact. If you followed the code of an ancient ruler, Hammurabi, then it's 'an eye for an eye, a death for a death', and your sister's death is justified." A silence enveloped the bunkroom.

"_Bitch_," was the one word that escaped Talker's lips. Rookie (guessing she was the only one who knew about King Hammurabi) narrowed her eyes.

"Traitor," Cat hissed.

"Call me a traitor, call me a fool, but I'm telling the truth," Rookie replied. She looked to Jack. "I assumed that was what Cowboy wanted." Cowboy nodded.

"She ain't no traitor," he said quietly. "She had a good purpose. She didn't want nobody ta get hoit. Sos she made shoah dat Spot was off da streets an' not a danger to a 'Hatten newsie. Though her tactics were different den what I woulda done, dey served their purpose."

"But Jack!" Talker and Cat protested in unison.

"But nothin," Jack replied. He turned his attention to Cat. "Dat's anuff a yoah comments. Don'tcha have a job yoah supposed ta be doin?" Cat narrowed her green eyes and practically stomped out of the bunkroom. Jack looked around, searching through the newsies.

"Boots," he said, and Boots walked forward. "Go ta da Bronx wit Itey. Get Fire." He then turned his head to Talker and Spot. "You two come wit me."

**&xxx&**

Fire, Rookie learned, was possibly one of the most fearsome-looking newsie she had ever seen (and that was saying a lot, since she grew up in Brooklyn). When he walked into the bunkroom, it was like everyone's breath had been stolen. The door opened, and even Rookie was left short of oxygen.

He wasn't very tall, only about five feet, ten inches in height. But he was extremely muscular. His beige shirt was tight against his body, his suspenders looking like they could barely fit around his shoulders. No girl in the Lodging House could resist stealing a glance. His dirty blonde hair was short, spiking up a bit. His face was completely chiseled and carved, every bone defined. His blue eyes were crystal-clear, but sharp. They darted around the bunkroom, taking in every movement, every face, every breath.

And the reason for his name. On the right side of his face, through his eye, was a scar. It started on his upper cheek, ran up in a slowly swerving motion to above his eyebrow, reached a tip and then ran back down, adjacent to the first line. Put together, the scar looked like a flame. His fists were clenched, and his lips pursed.

Jack, David, Spot, and Talker were soon facing him. Jack showed him out of the bunkroom and a slight racket was heard as the five made their way up to the roof. The Manhattan newsies traded looks with each other, none of them making a sound.

"Holy shit, someone die in heah?" Pirate almost exclaimed said as he walked in, Suave by his side. Rookie looked up earnestly as Suave walked in. She wanted to be the first one to clue him on what was happening, especially the parts that included her own involvement.

"Fiyah's heah," Shadow told Pirate, Rookie heard her on the bed above her. "The Leaders are meeting."

"Oh shit."

**&xxx&**

The meeting lasted over an hour, and the bunkroom was near-silent throughout the whole thing. Rookie whispered what had happened to Suave. He wasn't at all happy with her decision to invite Spot to dinner, but she persuaded him to believe it was for the best. She kissed him gently right under his jaw, and his hand flew to her upper arm.

"Not now," he said, and Rookie raised an eyebrow. She wasn't trying to start anything, but she didn't object to his words.

While Rookie was sitting in bed, leaning against Suave, she closed her eyes and held his hands gently. But her mind wandered to Spot. It wandered to their meeting in the afternoon, and their early evening together. Her mind was racing, thoughts moving through so fast, her temples started to throb. She shook her head lightly, opened her eyes, and cleared her thoughts.

She played with Suave's hands as they lay on her stomach. He was being very careful not to touch Rookie's ribcage. As he had learned earlier today, too much pressure or a wrong move in the wrong place would still put Rookie in a lot of pain.

"Suave?" Rookie murmured, looking back at him. His eyes were already locked on her as she turned very slightly to him. He had been watching her carefully before she had uttered his name. But he locked his eyes with hers as soon as they looked up to his. "Can we go outside please?" Suave nodded, and Rookie moved Bear so the two could leave the bed. The shepherd mix wound up following them anyway.

The three went downstairs and outside to talk. As they did, they could distinctly hear the leaders fighting above, but both ignored the voices and focused on each other. Rookie stood a little away from Suave, her back to him. Her eyes were turned up to the sky, and she shook her head again, ridding it of all thoughts of her dinner with Spot.

"What?" Suave asked behind her. She sighed out loud.

"Do you still love me?" she asked him. "Even after tonight?" Rookie felt Suave take her hand and soon she was being turned to face him. His hand reached up to her face, gently caressing her cheek.

"Of course," he replied, and Rookie smiled. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm going to have someone on my side," she replied. "I'm pretty certain everyone in the bunkroom isn't too happy with me right about now."

"Aw, they're probably just worried, ya know?" Suave replied. "An' I am too. Spot dragged ya' around like a rag doll last time, and we're in a war with Brooklyn. It must not look too good to them, and it didn't feel to good when you told me." Rookie bit her lip, looking down in guilt.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't think, I just acted."

"Why?"

"Because I have only ever seen Spot as angry as he was earlier tonight once before," she said in a small voice, her hand going gingerly to her side. "And he killed someone." Her eyes must have glassed over while the memory flashed back in front of them, because Suave's hands flew to Rookie's upper arms, and when she came back into focus of the present time, he was searching her eyes, trying to see what she was seeing.

"When?" he asked her. There was a tightness in his tone, something protective.

"Remember when I was attacked?" Rookie replied. "The night Manhattan attacked Brooklyn?" Suave nodded slowly. "Did I ever tell you the whole story of the next morning?"

"I thought you did," he replied, his voice rigid.

"I guess I didn't," she said, guilt in her tone. "I'm sorry. What _did_ I tell you?"

"That you got attacked Echo, and Spot walked you to the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge and left you on your own." Rookie coughed to try and cover up a laugh, but Suave wasn't fooled."

"Why are ya laugin' at me?" he pressed.

"I will explain after I tell the first part of what happened," Rookie replied, her voice gaining a new, full sense of seriousness.

"When I woke up, I had two seemingly homeless men standing over me." Rookie wound up staring into space, still telling the story, but also re-living it through her mind. "They were deciding…deciding what they were going to _do_ with me." Suave's hands (which were still on Rookie's upper arms), tightened their grip, but Rookie hardly noticed, she just continued on with her story. "And then Spot came out of no where. He told me to close my eyes and I did, at first. He killed one of the men, and I dared open my eyes. The look on his face, the fierceness in his eyes…it was the scariest expression I have ever seen. He was wearing that exact look tonight. I couldn't let him-"

"What happened afterwards?" Suave cut Rookie off.

"He only knocked out the second man before helping me up and walking through Brooklyn. Over the Brooklyn Bridge, he got me very angry. I wound up yelling at him and hobbling away. He still followed me to the end of the Bridge, but by that time I just wanted to get away from him and back to you." Suave nodded.

"I guess I owe him thanks," he said, his voice still tight but his eyes soft as he looked down into Rookie's. Rookie shook her head fervently and put her own hands on Suave's upper arms.

"You don't owe him anything," she told him. He smirked and shook his head, then took one of his hands and caressed Rookie's cheek gently.

"Rookie, ya don't understand," Suave replied, kissing her gently. "I owe him _my life_. If hadn'ta save you, if those guys had…" He trailed off, putting his forehead to hers. "If I lost you again, I woulda killed my self. You are my love, you are my life. Damn it, Rookie, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. If you woulda died, I woulda died! I can't lose ya again, understand." Rookie nodded her head, a few tears escaping her eyes. And suddenly, his lips were on hers.

"I love you," they both whispered at the exact same moment as they pulled apart.

**&xx&**

And that wonderful, beautiful kiss, those three passionate words, was why she was filled with guilt not twenty minutes later. Suave had confessed his complete and utter love for her, and she felt as if she was betraying him. Because right now, the letter in her pocket was going against him, going against the Manhattan newsies. If the letter was ever read by someone other than the receiver, Hell would surely come to New York.

_**Spot-**_ the four letters of the note said. **_Tonight I realized something. I miss you. No, not in the way you would originally think. As a friend. Tonight, I jumped in front of you because I didn't want you to get hurt. I _wanted _to finish our conversation. I believe you when you say you didn't kill Ringer, and I hope you don't betray my trust. Before January happened, we were friends. I want to be friends again. I'm horrible at writing letters but-_**… right there, the letter was stopped and scratched out so barely visible. On the same piece of paper just a little bit under it she wrote: _**Spot - I believe you. I don't want to fight with you anymore. Tonight was fun. Friends? -Rookie**_

Rookie sighed, feeling a mixture of guilt and anxiety. She felt extremely guilty for betraying Suave's trust, for betraying Manhattan, but she was anxious to give Spot the note, and to receive a reply. She folded the note carefully, biting her lip so hard she almost split it. On the front of the note she wrote: _**Do not open until back in Brooklyn**_. She then hid it on the inside of her palm.

Right now, she was sitting at the front desk area, waiting for the leaders to come down. They should be down any second, and she had to start walking up the stairs at the exact right moment.

As soon as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, she hopped off her chair quietly and headed for the stairs herself. Jack and David lead the way down the stairs, followed by Fire, then Talker, and Spot brought up the rear. All of them looked a mess of angry, loathing, and tired. Rookie walked to the right of them, avoiding eye contact.

When she was passing Spot, she took her note between her forefinger and her middle finger and slipped it carefully into his pocket, only glancing to the side. He hesitated, but she just kept walking up, her eyes set on the bunkroom door. In less than a second, he had continued walking down the stairs.

When she returned to the bunkroom, she found Suave waiting for her on her bed with bear. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She felt horrible as she forced a smile and kissed his lips gently.

And then the door burst open and Jack and David walked in. Rookie sat on her bed and turned her full attention to David while he explained their situation.

He explained that isolationistic ideals had been set up among the four major newsie boroughs (not in those exact words, of course). Each one was to keep to themselves until a better plan could be thought up. If any newsie was to step into the others without an invitation or a peace flag or armband, would be seen as an invader and taken into hostage by the "invaded" borough. Only allies were able to communicate, and that was on a much stricter level. There were to be shifts of guards at different points of each borough border. The rules were to take effect immediately after Talker, Fire, and Spot returned to their boroughs and set up guards.

"So, dis is pretty close to a peace, right?" Racetrack asked as David stopped. David turned his full attention to the Italian newsie.

"Right now, Race," he said, speaking slowly, carefully. "It's as close as we're gonna get."

**&xxx&**

Rookie woke up the next morning with a gentle sigh. She looked around, and found that she had awaken on her on means, and not the shouting of Kloppman. She yawned, stretched as gently as she could and slipped out of bed.

She dressed quickly and washed up at a bit of a slower pace. On any other given day, she would have fallen back to sleep. But she was fully awake for some reason, and she blamed it on her dreamless, very restful sleep. Not to mention, she wanted to get down before the others did. She wanted to avoid any conflict that might occur after the previous night, especially between herself and Cat.

So she French-braided her hair and capped her head with her hat. As she looked over herself in the small mirror, she couldn't help but smile ruefully. Her shirt was u-g-l-y, there was no denying that. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbow, revealing just slightly the sleeves of her white undershirt. She fixed her suspenders, tightened her shoelaces, and headed toward the stairs.

Because of their early start, Bear and Rookie were walking down the stairs just as Kloppman was walking up.

"Good morning, Rookie!" he greeted as they passed. "Yoah up early! There's somethin' on my desk. Don't know wheah it came from, it was theah when I woke up." Rookie raised an eyebrow in confusion but thanked Kloppman and continued downstairs.

Sure enough, on Kloppman's desk was a little piece of folded up newspaper. In scraggly penmanship on the front it said: _**Rookie**_. She bit her lip and unfolded it. Amongst the lettering of the old newspaper, two words were hand-written in large print.

_**Friends. - Spot**_

_**

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**_

**Author's Note****:  
Hello everyone! Sorry for the EXTREMELY long wait for this chapter, I've been sosososososo busy! As I might have mentioned before, I got a horse for my sixteenth birthday (best present EVER). This means I'm always at the barn. And when I'm not at the barn, I'm in school, which thankfully is in it's last two weeks. I'm also working on a novel (well, hopefully it will be someday), and a Lord of the Rings fan fiction I haven't touched in months. **

**I feel absolutely horrible! I promise I'll try and update more quickly. Hopefully, with school ending, I'll be able to write and update much much more.**

**Thank you so much for all those who reviewed chapter twenty and who added this fic as a favorite story and put it on your story alerts and me on your author alerts! I would be nothing without you, I'm oh-so-grateful to have awesome readers.**

**Much Love,  
xFlipperx**

**P.S. Title of Chapter = "Whoa" by Paramore**


	22. Dirty Little Secret

Only Time Will Tell_  
A Newsies fan fiction by xFlipperx_

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Dirty Little Secret**_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and the plot. The End._**  
Author's Note****: You're going to hate me…or love me…hmmm…**

**

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**

"What's that?" Rookie jumped as Suave came up behind her. She moved forward and away from him, sticking the note in her pocket.

"A note," she replied with a smile.

"From who?" Suave asked.

"No one important," Rookie replied. But she knew Suave wasn't stupid, and so did Suave. He moved quickly around her and pulled the note out of her pocket.

"Suave!" she exclaimed, moving to grab it out of his hands. But it was too late, he had already opened it over his head where Rookie couldn't reach it. His face hardened, and his hands dropped to his side.

"Come with me." His voice like stone, hard and monotone. He took her arm and led her out of the Lodging House and into one of the side alleys. This was not going to be good, Rookie knew that. No one was supposed to see that note besides her and Spot.

"Suave, look, it's not that big a deal," she murmured as soon as they got into the alleyway. "After last night-"

"After last night, I thought I could trust you!" Suave protested, and the comment cut through Rookie's chest like a knife. He was right, she had completely broken the trust that they had reaffirmed last night, with only a few simple words.

"Suave, I'm sorry but-"

"But nothin', Rookie," Suave said, his voice quieter. "You're gonna have to tell _Spot_ that you can't be friends. Or better yet, don't. I don't want you going anywhere near him."

"Why not, Suave?" Rookie pressed. "If I'm going to break things off with him, I should at least use decency and tell him to his face."

"I don't want you near him," Suave repeated.

"Why? You have nothing to worry about. I don't have any feelings for him."

"But he has feelings for you," Suave pressed once more, his voice becoming more urgent. "And I don't want him hurting you…or us."

"He won't do that, not now."

"You talk about him like you really know who he is."

"No, I don't, Suave."

"You talk about him as if you've forgotten everything."

"Suave, things are different now," Rookie replied, though her voice cracked. "I'm not forgetting, I'm forgiving and moving on."

"You can't just forget with him," Suave said angrily, running his fingers through his hair. "All the things he's done to you." He paused and looked straight into her eyes, which scared Rookie a bit. She knew what was coming. A re-cap of all the bad things Spot had done to her. But Rookie didn't want to hear it. She wanted to forget it and move on, just as she had told Suave. It was going to be different this time, her gut was telling her.

"He's apologized," she murmured softly, still staring straight into Suave's eyes. "For everything. At dinner last night, he told me."

"He could be lying, Rookie."

"But what if he's not," Rookie protested with a slight whine to her voice, and in the back of her mind she reminded herself of a two year-old being refused her favorite doll.

"Rookie, think about it, for a second, please," Suave urged. "Think about what he's done to you. If he was truly sorry, he wouldn'ta waited this long to apologize."

"Well it's not like he has had the chance."

"If I was him, and I had done something like that, I would follow you," he replied. "If he really loved you, he would have followed you down to South Carolina. I would have had to fight for you against him, if he really loved you. But did he do any of that? No. He just sat over there in Brooklyn on his little pile of crates, lording over everyone as if he was God himself." Rookie bit her lip. What could she say? She knew that Spot would never go after any girl like Suave described, but it would have been nice if he had. Maybe, things would have been different.

"He said he was sorry, and I believe him," she said firmly, which set Suave off.

"Of course he's sorry!" Suave exclaimed. "He sees that your happy and with someone who you love and loves you back. He's finally seeing what he's missing. Of course he's going to be sorry."

"I still don't see why we can't be friends, Suave," Rookie replied. "He hasn't done anything to me except help me out of sticky situations."

"He didn't see you when I first saw you," Suave replied, his voice shaking now. "He didn't see you when I first saw you. He didn't do anything to help you when you were hurt the most. It's his fault your Uncle is dead, it's his fault you went through all that. Do you forget that? Do you forget your Uncle? Do you think Theodore would have wanted you to go back and be friends with that guy?" He paused. "And what about the Newsies you call your family, huh? What about them? You know how they feel about Spot, they watched him drag you around before. And look what he has done to Manhattan. You're betraying them by doing this. You're betraying all of us. You're just proving Spot right."

Rookie put her hand to her stomach and took a deep breath. It felt as if she had just been punched. Maybe Suave was right. Even though all the things were unintentionally caused by Spot, what made her think that he would do a one hundred and eighty degree turn and not do something to similar affect intentionally?

And she also felt guilty. Guilty that she had betrayed Suave's trust. Guilty that she had betrayed her Uncle. She bit her lip and looked up at Suave. "I'm sorry for all of this," she said, feeling tears burning the backs of her eyes. "I'll write another note, I'll break it off with Spot. I can't let things happen again, I can't let time repeat itself."

Suave drew her into a tight hug and put his chin on her head. "I'm sorry I had to be like that," he told her in a whisper. "But you have to understand, I'm not letting' anythin' come between us ever again. 'Specially not Spot. He will not hurt you ever again." Rookie nodded slowly and sighed.

They broke away when they heard people walking down the stairway inside the Lodging House and quickly pulled out of the alleyway. Rookie wiped the tears from her eyes before they made it to her cheek and tried to make it look like everything was all right, that her and Suave's conversation had never happened. Suave wrapped his arm gently around Rookie's waist on their walk to the nun cart, and she leaned her head on his shoulder gently.

The whole day, Rookie couldn't concentrate. Her mind was far from selling papers, and it showed from the little amount she attempted to sell. She was so off, she would be skipping dinner that night, she would just buy a single meal for Bear. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but she bit her lip and tried to finish up, with only two more papers to sell.

*****

She brought a piece of scrap newspaper and a nicked fountain pen off of Kloppman's desk to dinner with her that night. She was eating with Sweetheart, who did not press her who she was writing to or why she was only feeding Bear. That was the good thing about their friendship, it was on the bases of: ask me no questions and I'll tell thee no lies. Rookie liked it that way. It was simple.

While they waited for the order, they chatted lightly. Rookie's mind was only half on the conversation, but they managed to hold it decently. She was more focused on what she was going to write to Spot, and how the hell she was supposed to get it to him without getting the daylight beaten out of her -again.

In the end, she wound up just writing: **Spot: Forget about it. He found out. Doesn't want us to be friends. I'm very sorry.** She did not sign it, Spot would know who she was. She was almost going to not address it, but thought better of the idea. She figured that it should be known to be for Spot, but with absolutely no inclination that she was the writer.

"How the hell am I going to get this to…" she stopped herself as she realized she was talking out loud. Sweetheart looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You all right there, Rook?" she asked. "Are you sure you should be giving all that food to Bear? You're not delirious, are you?" Rookie laughed and shook her head, though her stomach growled loudly.

"I'm fine, Sweetheart, thanks," she said with a smile. "And despite it's protests, my stomach has nothing to do with this one. Nope, my good ole' brain got me into this mess." Sweetheart shook her head with a smile and offered Rookie a piece of her sandwich, which Rookie refused. She didn't want to take charity from her friend.

The two started walking back to the Lodging House, still chatting. Rookie paid more attention, but still had the lingering thought of how she would get to Brooklyn. Then, just as they were about to turn the corner to the Lodging House, Rookie stopped dead as an idea flew into her head. Sweetheart stopped with her, asking her if she was all right.

"Yes, I am fine," Rookie replied slowly, and then looked into her friends eyes. "I forgot something that I had to do. Can you tell Suave I'm out for a stroll and I'll be back in about two hours? He should know what I mean. But don't let him follow me please."

"Oo-kay," Sweetheart replied, even slower than Rookie had originally stated her sentence. She was obviously confused, but let Rookie start backing up.

"Thanks, Sweet, I owe you one," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, you do," Sweetheart replied. "Be careful!"

Rookie walked as fast as she could without running back to Tibby's. She walked in, and asked for two napkins. Eyeing her suspiciously, Old Man Tibby gave her two napkins. She thanked him, bade him goodnight, and she and Bear left the restaurant. As she walked, she wound the napkins into thin pieces and tied one around both wrists. She made a turn down a familiar street, and set off for the quickest route to the Brooklyn Bridge.

The walk took her much longer than she would have liked, and was at the Brooklyn Bridge in forty-five minutes, instead of twenty-five, because of the two wrong turns she had made along the way. She was surprised to see that no one was guarding the edge of the bridge, and continued on eagerly. But, as soon as she hit the arc, she was confronted by two Brooklyn newsies. Quickly she showed her wrists and held up the note she had been clutching in her fist.

"I have a note for Spot Conlon," she said quickly. "From Jack. He wants it delivered directly."

"Spot's not in Brooklyn at the moment, Rookie," one of the voices replied. Surprised the newsie knew her name, Rookie squinted and recognized one of Spot's scouts, Viper in the dim light.

"Is there any way I can leave it somewhere he'll get it as soon as he returns?" she replied.

"Wit us," a newsie Rookie didn't recognize replied. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"This note is of the utmost importance," she replied. "Jack doesn't want it being intercepted. Are you _sure _ there's no way I can leave somewhere, like at the docks or something?" The two newsies turned their backs on Rookie, conversed quickly and then turned to face her again.

"Come wit us," Viper told her. "We's gonna take ya ta da docks, yoah gonna leave da note an' den leave Brooklyn." Rookie nodded and verbally agreed with the plan.

When they reached the other side of the bridge, Rookie was led to Spot's "throne" of crates, and was told to leave the note right where it would be seen as soon as Spot returned. She put it under a beer bottle so it wouldn't be blown away, and then turned around and was escorted back to the bridge. They walked the length of the bridge, and then she was allowed to go free.

It was passed midnight by the time Rookie and Bear got back to the Lodging House. She was exhausted and hungry, and Bear was whining. Rookie placed the pen she stole back on Kloppman's desk, and then slowly trudged up the stairs. She crossed the room to her bunk, removed the napkin wrist-bands and helped Bear up onto her bed, and then flopped down on the thin mattress. She was asleep in moments.

*****

"You've got another note heah, Rook," Kloppman told her as she trudged down the stairs the next morning. She had nearly forgotten about her nighttime stroll until Suave came up to her questioning her sanity. She had responded by simply telling him that everything was taken care of and that he had nothing to worry about. Since she was already dressed (she had never changed her clothes), she headed downstairs before him.

"Does it say who it's from this time?" Rookie questioned, slightly puzzled. Why would Spot respond? And if it wasn't Spot, who would be sending her a note. Kloppman handed her the folded note. She walked a bit away from him to open it. She didn't understand why, but her heart was practically throwing itself against her chest as trembling fingers unfolded the piece of paper. Her eyes widened as she read in clear print: ** Who hasta no? Our litle secret.**

Overwhelmed with a sudden burst of happiness, she slipped the note deep in pocket, smiling broadly. Spot didn't care! He still wanted to be friends with her. She didn't know why this made her feel so happy, but secretly, it was exciting. An adrenaline rush, to not be following the rules. _And besides,_ her logical mind rationalized. _It's not as if you're doing anything wrong. You're just being friends. Nothing more._

"What are you smiling about?" Suave's voice startled Rookie and she jumped.

"Oh nothing…" she replied coyly, though her insides were shaking and she was beginning to panic. But instead of showing any trace of fluster, she smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips gently. "Or maybe this…" she said as she broke away. He smiled and he kissed her back.

Problem averted. But for how long?

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**Author's Note:  
I'm sorry this chapter took so long to update. But truthfully, I was waiting for people to review. Usually I wait until I get at least eight reviews, but after three weeks, I decided not to hold back any longer, so here is chapter twenty-two! I hope you enjoyed.**

**Thank you to **HadleyConlon**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Curly-Q**,** **and** ilovenewsies** for reviewing chapter twenty-one. Please keep it up! I understand that this is a busy time of year for most people, but your reviews really mean a lot to me! Please tell me how you feel! It doesn't have to be long, just give me some form of feedback. I want to know how I can improve this fic so it is more enjoyable for all of you!**

**I hope you enjoyed chapter twenty-two, I will start writing chapter twenty-three sometime this week.**

**Much love to all my readers, reviewers, Author Alert-ers, Story Alert-ers,**

**xFlipperx**

**P.S. Chapter Song is "Dirty Little Secret" by The All American Rejects  
**


	23. How Do You Sleep?

Only Time Will Tell  
_A Newsies Fanfiction written by xFlipperx_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and my plot. That is all.  
_**Chapter Twenty-Three: How Do You Sleep?**

_

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_

The note was unfolded in his hand, his tight fingers wrinkling the perfectly preserved piece of paper. He stared at the words she had written. Not one question about him. One mention of him. One bit of a sentence. And the signature: _**Brooklyn**_. He sighed and shook his head. It had only been eight months -- how did it feel like an eternity?

A summer breeze floated in through the window of his private room, a greeting from the darkness. What time was it now? Most likely around three o' clock or somewhere near that time. But the breeze tickled the piece of paper, and an intoxicating scent rose from it and found its way into Spot's nasal passages. He breathed it in deeply and sighed heavily.

He missed her.

He looked up and into the mirror, his attention flying to his neck. He walked to the mirror, and frowned when he saw the fading hickeys.

Why did she have to see those? Why of all things, did she have to see those. _Now she's gonna t'ink I don't care bout her no moah_, he thought to himself. He mentally kicked himself in the ass and shook his head. Damn him. Damn Echo. Damn alcohol.

He put the letter away in a drawer under a book he had never picked up in his life. It belonged to the last King of Brooklyn, and for the passed few months Spot had been using it as a safe hiding place and preserver of the note.

Sometimes, he wondered why he even kept the note. He was constantly getting notes from Rookie. Daily, in fact. But something made him keep holding on to that stupid piece of paper. He looked out the window as he closed the drawer. Speaking of notes…

With the scent of Brooklyn still teasing his nostrils, Spot realized that he had to see Rookie, needed to see her. Now.

And he had the excuse.

He left his room quietly, he could not risk being heard or seen by any of his sleeping newsies. For the past week he had accomplishing this quite well, and he didn't want to ruin his perfect streak. So he crept silently down and out of the lodging house, careful not to wake the lodging house keeper, Jackson.

He walked the streets silently, stalking between shadows and alleyways. At this time of night, the only people that were out were homeless, hookers, drunks, and spies. He was almost positive that either Manhattan or Queens had a spy in Brooklyn (it wasn't extremely hard to get one in Manhattan, all that was required was a little persuasion), and he wanted to make sure that he wasn't being tailed. So he made some fairly complicated twists and turns before coming to the Bridge.

He walked over quickly, meeting Viper and Katie, the two newsies he had entrusted with the guarding of the Bridge. Only they knew that he was constantly in and out of Manhattan, only they knew, that if she had ever come, Rookie was allowed to walk through free, with no word said to anyone about it.

He walked through Manhattan very carefully. He wasn't here for trouble, and he didn't want to cause a fight or the war to lower to a fiercer level. He met Birdie (or at least, that's what he called her), his spy, midway through his journey. She scolded him for making himself so obvious, but with her knowledge of where the newsie guards were stationed, was able to get him to the Lodging House quick enough.

"Be careful," she told him sternly, before disappearing into a dark alley.

Careful? That's just not how Spot rolled.

He stared up at the lodging house, a harsh pang of something close to curiosity tighten his stomach. His eyes moved to the fire escape, and he smirked.

He had a plan.

He moved quietly to the fire escape and jumped to grab the first railing. He pulled himself up -an unsurprisingly easy feat, since he had been doing this practically his whole life- and began climbing. Slowly and silently he crept up the fire escape.

Spot should've have been scared out of his wits at the moment, or perhaps (since this is _the_ Spot Conlon we're talking about) a little more cautious about his actions. He was breaking into "the enemy"'s lodging house, to see a newsie that, no matter how hard he tried or how much alcohol he consumed, could not get out of his mind, not for one second.

And then suddenly, perhaps a little too quickly, he was at the window to the bunkroom. It was open as were the few other windows. The Manhatteners were probably hoping for some sort of breeze to ease the heat of August. The same went for Brooklyn, Spot noted to himself. Every single window was open, just trying to lure some fresh air into the cramped environment.

He climbed through the window and took his shoes off as soon as he was inside. He wanted to make as little noise as possible. He walked into the bunkroom, searching the beds. Rookie's wasn't hard to find, since it was the only one who had a large sleeping mutt on it. He walked over, and as he looked over her sleeping body, he felt a strange emotion rush over him.

Jealousy.

He was jealous. Of a dog.

He watched enviously as Rookie rolled over and draped an arm over her sleeping dog. Bear moved in closer, gently licking her face. Spot tensed, just in case Rookie woke up.

But if she did, would he run? He didn't know. _He _wanted to be the one sleeping chest to chest with Rookie, her arms draped over him. He wanted to be the one to wake up in the middle of the night and kiss her forehead, just to let her know he was still there, beside her.

He should be there, beside her.

He moved closer carefully, and as he did, stepped on a loose floorboard. Bear's head shot up and her large eyes searched the darkness. Seeing the dark silhouette of Spot, she raised her lip and began to growl protectively. Rookie stirred and Spot made a break for it, slipping silently out of the bunkroom and back to the window. He just started climbing down the fire escape as he heard Rookie tell Bear to hush and let her get five more minutes of sleep before Kloppman woke her up.

Kloppman. Spot didn't think of him. When did the old man wake up, anyway? He wasted no time in practically flying down the fire escape. It was dawn, and he could be clearly seen if anyone poked their head out their window. He landed on the ground and looked toward the alley, remembering his original purpose of coming to Manhattan.

He walked into the alley, and at the first brick started at the bottom brick and then counted ten bricks up. He kept his index finger on the line of tenth bricks and then began walking into the alley. Sixty-five bricks in, he grabbed the loose brick that was jutting slightly from it's place and dropped it to the ground next to him. He took the little piece of paper that was waiting for him out of the hole left by the removed brick and read it quickly. He tore off a blank piece and wrote a reply in the pencil he had nicked from Jackson's desk and wrote quickly, completely disregarding what Rookie had wrote to him: _**We shud meet in person. Tonite.**_

He put the piece of paper back in the hole, replaced the brick carefully and began walking out of the alley. But then he heard something. "C'mon, Bear." It was Rookie. He hesitated at first, but quickly ran the opposite direction and ducked down one of the adjoining alleys. He took off his hat, and poked his head just so one eye could see Rookie clearly.

It hurt to see her, moving easily. The easiness of someone who had enough sleep at night. But there was something about her. She looked very thin, or perhaps it was just the affect that ugly orange-pink shirt had on her, it must have been a bit to big. He watched her open the note and frown, which made him frown. Frowning wasn't good. No, frowning was never good.

She wrote her reply and put it back in the brick. She then lifted her head, and he pulled back his head. His heart started racing, she must have seen him. But all he heard was a whistle, and the sound of a four-legged animal running away from him. Bear must have been slowly approaching him, and he hadn't even realized.

This was not good, he couldn't get distracted in such away. It was stupid and dangerous. But would he have cared if Rookie had seen him? Probably not.

He made sure to wait until all the Manhattan newsies were out of the Lodging House and starting toward the breakfast cart to walk down the alley and to the loose brick. He took out the note hiding behind it, unfolded it, and read it. _**Tonight, Spot? I don't think that will work. Sorry.**_

That answer just wouldn't do. He read the note over again, shaking his head ruefully. "Dat's what you t'ink," Spot said, smirking slightly as he crushed the piece of paper in his hand. With a bit of spring in his step as he diverged deeper into the alleyway, he decided he would spend the day in Manhattan.

**

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**

**Author's Note****:**

**I know I've made you wait so long for such a short chapter, but I felt that we needed a good chapter (even if it is extremely short) dedicated to Spot's point of view. What do you think? Don't worry, the next chapter will have Spot and Rookie together, and it will be much longer. I promise.**

**Thank you **Lucy**,** Sportin' the Purple Neck Pillows**,** geek'd**,** Hadley Conlon**,** Alex**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** Curly-Q**,** Jylnnxoh**,** ilovenewsies**,** imgonnaliveforever**,** oXPunkieXo**,** Echo Quinlan**,** ..xX**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**, and** Angel in the Morning** for your lovely reviews. I absolutely love hearing from you guys, and getting such a positive reaction to Chapter 22 was amazing. I love you all very much.**

**Please review this chapter and let me know what you think. Do I need to watch "_Newsies_" again before I write the next chapter? I need your reviews, so please don't hold back!**

**Yours Truly,  
****xFlipperx**

**P.S. Chapter title = Jesse McCartney's "How Do You Sleep?"**


	24. Here We Go Again

Only Time Will Tell_  
A Newsies Fanfiction written by xFlipperx_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and my plot. That is all._

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Here We Go Again**

* * *

It had been a week since she had received the agreement of friendship from Spot, and Rookie had been in a considerably better mood since.

Her sudden mood change had been noticed, since she was one of the only newsies in a good mood. Selling was rough, they were receiving a constant bought of hunger pangs, and in the second week of August, the temperatures were sweltering, reaching the nineties every day. If you stood outside for five minutes you were sweating as if you had run a marathon. Since they were outside for much more than five minutes a day, the chance of meeting a happy newsie was slim.

There was only thing (well, person, really) that put Rookie in such a good mood these past couple of days. His name, was Spot Conlon.

For the past seven days, Spot and Rookie had been communicating through notes. They had picked a place where each of them could go to and leave the note without the threat of being discovered. Somehow, the place had wound up in Manhattan, and Rookie had absolutely no idea how Spot got his notes through every night. But truly, she didn't care. As long as she got the note and nobody found out.

At this moment, she was creeping out of her bed and into the washroom. Rookie had asked Kloppman to wake her up about ten minutes before he woke Suave up. She was expecting him to question why, but he didn't, and she was happy. She stunk at making up stories anyhow and he probably wouldn't have believed her.

But this time, it wasn't Kloppman who woke her up, it was Bear. The young dog had woken her up with a growl and a bark. It had scared Rookie, but she did a quick search of the bunkroom to check that no one was there, and she didn't see anyone outside when she looked out the window. So she had shrugged it off as her dog having a very bad dream.

She washed her face, neck, and behind her ears before dragging a brush through her hair. She frowned at the look of it, and hoped the heat would break and it would rain. Her hair was beginning to become oily and dirty. "Thank God for hats," she murmured to herself as she tied her low braid and slapped her hat over her head, covering the worst parts.

She crept slowly and silently out of the bunkroom and out down the stairs, Bear following loyally just a step or two behind. Kloppman was not at his desk, but a piece of paper and a pencil had been left out for Rookie. She was paying him a penny every three days for the use of three pieces of paper. But she didn't use the whole sheet. She ripped it up into (fairly uneven) fourths, and saved pieces. But it was always good to have extra pieces, just incase.

Rookie and Bear snuck out into the alleyway next to the lodging house. She counted ten bricks up from the floor and put her finger on the tenth one. She began walking further into the alley. Sixty-five bricks in, there was a loose brick. She maneuvered it out of it's place, revealing a small cubby hole. Within the hole was a little piece of paper. Excitedly, Rookie took it out and unfolded it.

_**We shud meet in person. Tonite.**_

Rookie was stunned at the reply to her last note, which had nothing to do with meeting. She sighed and took out a piece of paper from her pocket. _**Tonight, Spot? I don't think that will work. Sorry.**_ She hated telling him no. Only God knew how much she wanted to see Spot again. To actually be able to have another conversation, to joke around and have fun. To be real friends with him. But she sighed and folded her piece of paper and put it back into the hole, replacing the brick. She then turned, whistled to Bear to get her away from her sudden interest in the connecting alleyway, and jogged back to the lodging house.

Luckily enough, she and Bear were just sitting down on one of the front steps when Suave came down the stairs and out the door to meet her. "Good morning," he said with a smile, bending down and kissing her lips gently. She smiled and echoed the greeting, motioning for him to sit down beside her. As he slipped his arm around her shoulder, she thought of her correspondence with Spot and felt the usual pang of guilt pull on her stomach.

Of course she felt bad for going behind Suave's back, but when she got a note from Spot or went to reply, those feelings vanished. Whether anyone believed her or not, and no matter what others told her, Rookie felt it in her gut that this time was different. Spot wasn't going to hurt her this time, or at least purposely.

_All he has done is help me_, she thought to herself as she leaned into Suave's shoulder. _He apologized, and accepted my apology. He's agreed to be friends. As long as it doesn't surpass friendship…_ Rookie sighed and kissed Suave's cheek gently.

Oh how she loved Suave. He was her white knight in shining armor that had come galloping to her rescue that day eight months ago. But her white knight was going to have to realize that she wasn't just some damsel in distress anymore. She was really coming into her own person over these past few months -- especially the two she had spent with the newsies. She didn't need someone looking after her and protecting her all of the time, she needed someone to support her decisions and be there for her just in case it all fell apart. She kissed him on the cheek a second time and then stood up as she heard the rest of the Manhattan newsies stomping down the stairs.

Rookie sighed as she got her thirty papers and hit the streets. Even though it should have been completely focused on selling, her mind could not resist the temptation of side-tracking off to the note Spot had left her that morning, about wanting to meet up. The thought was nerve-racking, but exciting. Sure, she wanted to see him, but she was nervous. She knew she wanted her freedom from Suave, but she was nervous that he would find out. Or the worse possible consequence -- the Manhattan newsies found out.

She shuddered at the thought. _That _would be the single most horrible thing to happen, and something Rookie would never want to happen. She would be kicked out of Manhattan. At least, if Suave found out, she could talk him down, and convince him not to tell anyone. But if Jack or Racetrack or Kid Blink or Mush found out…hell would be unleashed upon New York.

Just the thought of it happening made Rookie feel guilt, and her stomach dropped and rolled. She couldn't leave Manhattan, there would be no place to go. _Could go to Brooklyn, everyone thinks you're dead,_ a part of her mind told her. _**Yes, but that would label me as a traitor, I'd rather be exiled and stay loyal to Manhattan than turn my back on all of them.**_

*****

Rookie found herself thinking about the newsie boundaries and loyalty and segregation of the newsies as she sold papers throughout the day. She was still thinking about it long after she had finished selling, through her dinner at Tibby's, and as she began her walk back to the Lodging House. Instead of staying with Shadow, Runner, and Sweetheart, she parted and decided to take the long way home, her thoughts to muddled to go back and sleep.

Why was it all about stupid pride and loyalty to your borough? And the more she thought of it, the whole war itself seemed quite superfluous. They were all there for the same reason. At a base, they were all newsies. At a base, they all had the same goals, same ideals. If anything, they shouldn't be fighting over stupid political and personal scores. They should be uniting.

"United we stand, divided we fall," Rookie murmured under her breath. Words she had heard and read used by politicians constantly. Well that made more sense. Uniting would create a better newsie selling machine, working fully oiled. And yet instead, they fought. Over what, Rookie hardly knew the half of it. But all she knew was that the newsies were a lot happier when they were all united. Of course, they would have petty issues, but those could be solved easily.

Rookie became aware of her surroundings as her mind faded out of her thoughts. Perhaps the idea was more difficult than at first glance, because they had been able to take Rookie completely out of her mindset. She looked around and bit her lip. She was at a particularly dark part of the street she was walking in, the next streetlight up ahead about thirty feet, the last behind her about forty. She picked up speed and set her eyes on the next streetlight, gripping Bear's leash tightly.

And then it all happened very quickly. She didn't have time to realize what happened until after the fact. All of a sudden her foot caught something, and she began to fall. An arm conformed around her waist and a hand was placed over her mouth. Bear was barking like mad, being dragged as well as whoever had grabbed Rookie began pulling her into the alley. She kicked and fought, but all she heard was a quite "shhh" and a chuckle. This was no laughing matter.

She moved her lips back and bit down hard on her attackers hand. Whoever they were pulled their hand away and swore loudly, but kept his arm around her waist. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, Rookie! Relax, will ya?" Rookie relaxed almost instantly, but turned around fast and smacked her "attacker" straight across the face.

"You're such a dunce, Spot Conlon!" she hissed in a low voice, and then silenced Bear.

"You didn't haveta bite me!" he snapped defensively, shaking his hand out. "I think it's bleedin'."

"Well you should have said something instead of letting me think that I was about to be abducted," Rookie replied coolly.

"Yous shouldn't be walkin' round dark alleys," Spot pointed out.

"_You _should not be lurking around dark alleys in an enemy territory," Rookie quipped. "And besides, I can defend myself well enough, as you can see." He chuckled, but she couldn't see what expression was on his face. It was odd, talking in the darkness. She could just see his slim silhouette in front of her. And suddenly, his arm was around her shoulders, and he pulled her in close.

"Do yous think I would let anythin' like that happen ta ya?" he asked smoothly.

"Really, Spot?" Rookie rolled her eyes and turned out of his grip and took her pointer and middle finger and pressed into his chest, pushing him away. She then proceeded to walk out of the alley. But he grabbed her wrist and held her back. She used a moved Jack showed her; a lunge toward the attacker and a quick twist of the wrist. Unfortunately, Spot was quicker. He let go of her wrist, but grabbed the scruff of her shirt instead and pulled Rookie back toward him. She didn't fight it, she knew it was no use.

"I didn't like yoah ansa to me note tahday," he said matter-of-factly. "Sos I decided ta take things inta me own hands."

"_Obviously_," Rookie replied. As hard as she tried to sound annoyed, she couldn't. She wanted to see Spot face to face as well. Though he could have executed a better plan, her stomach was still bubbling with excitement.

"So take a walk wit me," he said.

"Where?"

"No place outta 'Hattan," he replied. "Central Park?"

"Sure, if you know a covered way there," she replied. "I really can't be caught with you, Spot. I've just gained trust back, and that would get me kicked right out of the Lodging House."

"Don't worry about it," Spot said, "I got dis cova'd." Rookie looked at his silhouette skeptically, but agreed.

They took a few turns down the alley passages and wound up only a block or two away from the park. They went in silence, communicating basically through glances and hand gestures. They didn't want to talk, not until they were safely under the cover of the trees in Central Park. Rookie knew that there were guards stationed around the park, but not in it. Once they were in, they were good. But getting in…

Somehow, Spot maneuvered quite easily into the park. It was as if he knew exactly when and where the Manhattan newsies were stationed. Rookie had a funny feeling that he did know, which unsettled her. To be able to know where and when guards were would take the use of a spy. If there was a spy in Manhattan, well that wasn't good.

But soon they were walking side-by-side on the park trail, perfectly safe and perfectly sound. It was a calming silence, a relief.

"Didya get much crap from Jacky-boy from last week?" Spot asked. Rookie shook her head.

"No, not really," she replied. "A few of the others are a bit skeptical, but for the most part the event has been forgotten. Most of us have other things on our mind."

"Like what?"

"Like how we're going to afford our next meal," she replied. "Or if we're going to be able to afford the month's rent. Time's are rough, and this stupid war isn't helping our situation."

"I know," Spot replied calmly. "Brooklyn's feelin' it too. I want dis stupid war to be ovah, but I wanna end it."

"Really? And if you want it to be over so badly, why don't you just give someone else a chance to end it?"

"Coz dere hasta be a good reason," replied Spot. "And well, afta this week reasons haven't been so good." Rookie rolled her eyes but nodded her head, partially understanding. She had to remind herself that she was talking to Spot Conlon, and the pride should be expected and either ignored or accepted.

"So, if there was a way to end the war, a chance, you would take it?" she asked him. He nodded his head slowly, looking at her. The path was dimly lit, and she could see a quizzical expression on his face. She stared back at him, and then shook her head with a smile and looked in front of her.

"What?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she replied, knowing that it would bug him.

"What?" he asked her again, nudging her gently with his shoulder.

"Nothing," she replied, nudging him back.

"_What_?" he asked, straining the word in annoyance.

"Well, I was going to say that you've changed, but after that response, I suppose your impatience is still fully intact," she told him.

"What doya mean I's changed?" Spot questioned. Rookie shrugged.

"I cannot just explain it," she replied. "You just have. The way you act, the way you think. Or, perhaps I just didn't know you well enough back then." Her voice grew quiet, pensive.

"You didn't," he admitted. She looked at him and he mimicked her shrug. "Yous didn't know a lotta 'bout me back den."

"I suppose I didn't."

There was another one of those calm silences, and Rookie just took deep, even breaths, listening to the sound of their footfalls and the echoing sounds they made in the darkness. It was sudden when Spot began to speak, and Rookie jumped, causing Spot to chuckle and have to start over again.

"You's changed too, ya know," he said quietly, a smirk still playing his lips from Rookie's reaction.

"I know," she replied with a smile of her own.

"You's coitenly ain't Brooklyn no more," he said.

"I know," she repeated.

"An'…I wanted ta say t'anks, foah ya know, last week," he continued. Rookie turned to him as they walked, even though his eyes were straight ahead. She couldn't help but smile ruefully to herself. Spot was never good at showing and stating gratitude. "Da way ya t'rew yoahself in fronta' Talka, dat was.." he trailed off and shook his head, chuckling. "... dat was somethin' else."

"I didn't want anything to happen that would make the situation worse," Rookie replied, lying a bit. "I didn't know what that I was thinking at the moment, all of a sudden I was colliding with Talker, and a whole commotion started."

"Well t'anks," Spot repeated. "Coz ya putchaself in a lotta trouble an' got me outta quite a mess." Rookie nodded, rubbing her hand behind her neck with nerves.

"Can I ask you something, Spot?"

"Shoah."

"Did you kill Talker's sister?" she asked this quietly, looking at him. He didn't look at her, his eyes glued straight ahead. "I know it's a bit of a rude question to ask and if you don't want to answer it then I'd be perfectly-"

"No," Spot replied. "I didn't." Rookie nodded, and that's when Spot turned to her, and looked her straight in the eye. The two of them stopped to face each other. Spot searched her eyes, and pursed his lips. "I didn't kill Ringer. Onea' my goils was in Queens out-of-orders. She killed Ringer on her own charge." Rookie nodded her head. "She's been t'rown outta da Lodgin' House." Rookie took in a breath, but understood. Blatantly disregarding orders was unacceptable, especially when someone's life was taken as a result.

The two stood, staring at each other for a moment. "You's changed," Spot finally said, their eyes still locked.

"I know," Rookie repeated.

Spot took a few steps back away from Rookie, putting his hand up to tell her to stay where she was. She raised an eyebrow at his behavior, waiting for an explanation. "Do yous know wheah we's are?" he asked her.

Rookie looked around and took in a sharp breath. It didn't take much recollection to recognize the spot. Where they stood was the exact spot that she and he had met nine months ago. The same place that Rookie had almost taken her own life, the same place that she and Spot Conlon had ever met, face-to-face and spoke to each other.

Spot whistled and shook his head. "Was it really only nine months ago?" Rookie asked quietly. Spot nodded his head, twiddling his cane around his fingers. Rookie played with Bear's leash, biting her lip in nervousness. Why she was nervous, she didn't know, but it was something about being in this place that sent shivers up her spine.

It was the feeling of beginning. It was in this place that the most complicated part of her life began. If Spot hadn't been there that night, there was good chance that Rookie wouldn't have a chance to revisit it. But was this a new beginning, perhaps? Though a part of her wanted to jump on the chance, another held a sense of foreboding. Should she stop this "new beginning" before it went too far? Or was it already rolling, too fast for her to prevent it from stopping it?

Spot drew her out of her thoughts with memories. For the rest of their walk in Central Park, and well on their way on the streets the reveled in memories. He asked her a few questions about this and that. What she liked was that he never asked her once about Manhattan, or did he mention the war in great detail. If he asked a question, it was about her (or at one point, Suave) specifically.

They rounded the turn to the Lodging House, thankfully in one of their silences, and rounded right on Jack and David, talking quietly by the entrance. When Jack saw them, Rookie tried to remain as cool as possible. A dozen explanations were running through her mind, but before she could grab onto one, Spot spoke up for her.

"I's want a meetin' of us Leadahs," he demanded. Jack approached them swiftly, heeled by David.

"What's all dis?" he asked tightly, motioning to Rookie. She quickly moved over to Jack's side, looking at Spot. "An' whatchou doin' on our toif?"

"I couldn't find me no white flags," Spot replied loftily. "Sos I found dis one walkin' home from dinnah. Just call her my white flag."

"Get outta heah, Spot," Jack warned.

"I's wantin' a meetin'," Spot repeated.

"You's gonna get it, but foist, you's gonna get outta Manhattan." Jack's voice was furious, extremely threatening. Spot took the hint and put his hands up in defense.

"G'night gentlemen," he said in a false-formal drawl. He looked to Rookie and smirked. "An' lady." Rookie glared at him icily. While the banter between Jack and Spot was going on, she had thought of a perfect explanation. A perfect chance.

Convincing Jack and David not to tell Suave about her little stroll with Spot was not an easy task. She had to persuade him into believing that she was trying to get information out of him. And, for the first time in since she had sat in the library of the Pulitzer mansion in front of her mother, sister, ex-fiancé, and a newspaper reporter, she believed that she was very convincing.

Jack seemed skeptical, and told her that if she could provide him with information, then they would see about not telling Suave. Rookie smiled, not happy with the terms, but happy that her plan was working. Hopefully, Jack would take this chance and present it with Spot. Hopefully, Spot would take it and end the war. Then all would be right again and quite possibly Rookie could earn the full trust of the Manhattan newsies, even if she didn't fully deserve it. But if this backfired, well just the opposite could happen.

With that same, emotion-hiding, silky smile, she looked her leader straight in the eye and asked: "Cowboy, how much do you know about the Brooklyn Bridge?"

**

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**

**Author's Note****:**

**I'm going to be away for the next week, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I might be able to write while I'm away, but I'm not entirely sure. When I get back, I'll try and update as quick as possible. I hope you liked Chapter 24 and I wish it was somehow possible to get Chapter 25 up while I'm away, but I'm not going to have internet access while I'm away.**

**Please, REVIEW! I love hearing from you, so please REVIEW!**

**A big thanks to**EmeraldGreyClouds**,** ellestJenn**,** Echo Quinlan**,** oXPunkieXo**,** Newsies-own-me**, **.**,** ilovenewsies**, and **0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0** for reviewing Chapter 23! You guys mean so much to me.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 24.**

**xFlipperx**

**P.S. Chapter title = "Here We Go Again" by Demi Lovato**


	25. Something's Coming

Only Time Will Tell_  
A Newsies Fanfiction written by xFlipperx_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and my plot. That is all._

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Something's Coming  
**

* * *

The air in the Lodging House was tense. Rain splattered on the streets outside, and each and every newsie sat drenched to the bone on one bunk or the other. Some were playing a rigid game of cards, others talked in tones inaudible to those exceeding the boundary of the bunk where the conversation was taking place. Rookie and Suave sat together on the floor next to Rookie's bunk. Rookie was in Suave's lap, leaning up against his chest as he leaned against the wall. They didn't speak, just enjoyed each other's company, even though they were both soaking wet.

At the front of the room, David and Jack were deep in conversation. Jack had liked the information that Rookie had given to him about the "Manhattan-Brooklyn Bridge", and was pleased that it a.) Was simple, but the probability that it would be effective was very good and b.) That Spot would never see it coming. And as promised, Suave wasn't told about her excursion with Spot the previous night.

Other than that, Rookie had as much clue to what they were discussing as everyone else in the Lodging House. All they were told is that there was a plan to sucker Brooklyn into ending the war without raising a fist, without changing anything that had previously been. "Almost like nothin's evah changed," Jack had explained briefly. "But we's gonna make Spot t'ink it has." Rookie had an inking of the plan forming in her mind, or rather what she would have done, but was positive that Jack and David's would be more calculated, more precise.

"What's on your mind?" Suave whispered in her ear, watching as she had drifted off into a trance-like thought, her eyes glazing over. She came back into her head and turned her head slightly.

"Everything," she replied in the same whispered volume.

"I know what you mean," he replied, resting his chin on her shoulder. Rookie nodded a bit and leaned back into him again, but her insides were torn. Half of her was cynically laughing, the other soaked in guilt. The thoughts that got through were:** Hah, he doesn't know the half of it**, was her more cynical side and:_ I wish he did_, was from her guilt-soaked side.

The silence was broken when Kid Blink nearly ran into the bunkroom. He stopped when he closed the door behind him and leaned up against it, looking down. All eyes turned to him, including Jack and David. He was drenched to the bone, and he looked plain disheveled. When he looked up and lifted his water-logged hat, a purple bruise was forming on the left side of his jaw.

"What da hell happened ta you?" Racetrack asked, standing up from his game of cards.

"Dat's what I'd like ta know," Jack replied, walking away from his and David's conversation. Kid Blink looked from Racetrack, to the rest of the newsies, and to Jack.

"It's da Delancy brothas, Jack," he said, his slightly-accented voice accented with agitation. "They're back. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but they're back." Much to Rookie's surprise, this caused and immediate up rise with the newsies around her. Delancy. Now why was that name familiar, and why did it set every single one of the Manhattan Newsies off? She looked to Suave, who looked about as clueless as she felt.

But they weren't the only ones that were confused. "Who are da Delancy bruddahs?" she looked over to see Shadow was asking the question. Sweetheart and Runner were also looking a bit confused. Jack and David looked at each other, and then in unison, looked over to Racetrack.

"Couldja explain ta dem, Race?" he asked. "Now we's got anuddah thing ta worry about." Racetrack nodded and David and Jack turned away from the situation and went back to their corner.

"The Delancy bruddahs used ta woik at da distribution centah," he said, once all the newer newsies were grouped toward the back of the bunkroom. "Wit deir uncle, Mista Wiesel."

That's where Rookie knew the names from. They were workers of her (well, Brooklyn's), Uncle. She had heard the names a few times before, especially when the strike ended. They wound up in jail on mistreatment and assault charges. And they were being let out? That boggled Rookie's mind.

The guys were warned heavily against getting into conflicts with them. They were known to attack two-to-one, and often had a set of brass knuckles with them. It was when Racetrack spoke directly to the girls that got everyone revved up. "Dey has no mercy," he told them. "I would not go lurkin' round dark alleys by yoahselfs."

Suave tightened his grip around her lower waist and she winced. "Suave, they're not going to come bursting through the window," she murmured, putting her hands on his and loosening their grip on her.

"Suave! Skittery! Boots!" Jack called suddenly. Suave looked over to Jack, who was motioning for them to come over. "You too, Rookie, Sweetheart, and Itey." Rookie removed Suave's arms from around her waist and the two joined the others in front of Jack.

"A meetin' date foah da Leadahs has been set," he told them. "I need yous-" he pointed at Suave, Skittery, and Boots "-to go ta Queens an' tell Tawka. An' I need yous-" he pointed to Rookie, Sweetheart, and Itey "-ta go ta Brooklyn."

"What?" Suave immediately interjected.

"I didn't ask foah an opinion, Suave," Jack snapped. He was edgy, and already quite frustrated. He didn't need the protectiveness of Suave. "I has my reasons, an' yoah jus' gonna haveta deal wit 'em, or ya gonna have ta get out." The whole bunkroom was silent. Everyone who hadn't been looking at the group was now looking, intrigued by the commotion.

"Now, I needs Race, Blink, Mush, Shadow, Cat, Specs, an' Dutchy, front an' centah," Jack said. The seven newsies walked up to the group in front of the bunkroom. "Yous gonna be goin' ta Brooklyn too, but yoah not gonna be goin' all da way." There was confusion, so David stepped in.

"This is our plan…" he began.

'Our plan', was brilliant, in Rookie's eyes. Rookie, Sweetheart, Itey, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, Shadow, Cat, Specs, and Dutchy would walk to Brooklyn. When they got to the Brooklyn Bridge, they would present a note (written by David), explaining that they would be claiming the part of the Brooklyn Bridge that was rightfully there, according to boundaries.

The unspoken part of the plan was clear to Rookie. They were going to make it seem as if they were taking territory from Brooklyn, and try and bait Spot with that. Spot was going to think he lost territory, but in reality he hadn't lost or gained anything, and in the end, he wouldn't gain. Rookie had to admit, when they put their heads together, Jack and David were quite the schemers.

Suave and Rookie kissed briefly before they went their different ways. She could tell that he was upset with her for agreeing to go to Brooklyn, but what else was she going to do? Tell Jack off and get in trouble, lose trust? Absolutely not. Not after all she had been through in these past two and a half months.

There was a large group going to Brooklyn, so they weren't necessarily that paranoid about the news of the return of the infamous Delancy brothers. "Dey're cowahds," Racetrack said, puffing out his cigar. "Dey won't do not'in stupid when dere's dis many a' us."

But what was interesting about the group, is that the three that were going directly to Spot had white pieces of cloth tied around both wrists (Bear, accompanying Rookie, even had a piece around her neck), while the group that was there to take half of the Brooklyn Bridge, were not.

The exact plan was that Sweetheart, Itey, and Rookie would go to the Bridge first. By the terms of the last meeting, they would be given an escort over the Bridge by one of the guards on duty for the night. When the group got to the end of the Bridge, Itey would wait until the escort wasn't looking and throw his empty (though he would pretend it was full) bottle of cola back toward the Bridge. In the still of the night at this hour, the crash would be just audible by the group (Race, Blink, Mush, Shadow, Cat, Specs, and Dutchy) at the other end of the Bridge who would be pretending to guard the way into Manhattan. That group would then attack the Brooklyn guards and push them back to the middle of the bridge. Manhattan outnumbered Brooklyn 2-1, and it would be considered a completely fair fight. It was a holey plan, and it was highly possible for something to go wrong, but when executed the right way, it would work perfectly.

Rookie was shaking on the inside. She had no idea how things would go in Brooklyn. Technically, her group of three would be deemed safe, but she wondered if the terms would change once word got back to Spot on how one side of the Bridge had been seized. She just hoped they would be in-and-out before word got back. And if anything, she had the slightest hope that she wouldn't be touched. And if anything over anything, she had Bear, who was becoming quite the protective little beast.

When the Bridge ramp came into view, Itey motion for Sweetheart and Rookie to break away from the group. The two followed obediently, Rookie stroking Bear's head absentmindedly. Was this going to work? What would be the outcome?

_Will I be able to be friends with Spot without being penalized for it? _she found herself thinking suddenly. The thought itself surprised her, but her mind just kind of ran with it. When all was right with the Newsie-World, Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon were very good friends. Rookie believed that there was something that once connected them, and began to ponder how hard it was to constantly fight your friend.

**It's horrible, you know that**, a thought added, and at first, she was once again thrown off by her own inner-statement. She bit her lip and tried to decode her own thought. And it was true, it was hard constantly fighting someone that had meant a lot to her. She had fought with him constantly for the passed nine months, and just as things were looking up for them, it was quite possible that everything else was looking down.

And then she thought about it again. How many times had she and Spot actually gotten into fights? Quite a few, now that she really thought about it. And yet, they always found a way back to each other, one way or another. She smirked to herself and shook her head. There must be one thing right, and that was that she and Spot could never be anything more than friends. Romance meant complications, and complications meant fights.

But if the opportunity presented itself-

Don't you dare think like that, she growled at herself. No. She was not allowed to think of that, not at all. She had Suave. Beautiful, wonderful Suave. She had Suave, and she intended to keep him, thank-you-very-much. Suave, Suave, Suave, she thought to herself. And in that moment, another thought popped into her head.

**Perhaps Suave does have something to worry about, something to be jealous of…**

_No._

Rookie stopped that thought process just as they reach the ramp. The guards were in front of them immediately, and all of them showed there wristbands. Rookie had Bear sit so they could see the band around her neck.

"We're here with a message for Spot Conlon," Sweetheart explained, her voice in it's usual, well, sweetness.

"An' dat would be?" one of the guards asked, faceless in the dark.

"A private message for Spot Conlon," Rookie piped up.

"A _private _message dat take t'ree a' yous ta dalivah?" another guard quipped.

"Yeah, an' we's heah peacefully," Itey said calmly, twirling his cola bottle in his hand. "Sos technically, ya gotta let us through."

"We's don't gotta-"

The Brooklynite who had objected was silenced by another. He stepped forward, observed the small group, and nodded his head. "All right," he said. "Let's go."

As they walked along, Rookie looked to Sweetheart, who looked to Itey. The two smirked at each other, and Rookie smiled. This was working. It was really working. Just keep thinking positive, she told herself. Most of all, she wanted to keep her mind clear. A clear mind was a sound, alert mind. She couldn't be muffled by Spot and Suave and the war on a large scale. Her mind had to be right in that moment, or if anything, anticipating what was to come in Brooklyn.

Luckily, when Itey through the bottle, the guard did nothing but shift his eyes and tell them to move faster. Avoiding conflict, something that Rookie never knew Brooklynites were capable of. And so they continued on at a slightly quicker pace.

Walking through Brooklyn was surprisingly easy. Memories came flooding back to Rookie -- that was no surprise, but rather the surprise was that she didn't care. She didn't care that she had walked down the same streets her whole life, as a completely different person. She didn't care that this was the place her life changed, forever. Everything looked the same, but it held a whole different meaning.

When they got to the Brooklyn Lodging House, it looked exactly as Rookie had remembered it from the freezing cold Christmas Eve in December. Itey took the lead behind the escort as they filed into the Lodging House. Sweetheart took the place behind him, and Rookie followed in last.

They were led up a set of stairs, and then passed the bunkroom. When they passed it, the whole room seemed to stop and stare, as if they knew their enemies were among them. Expecting to see Spot among them, Rookie was thrown off when they were led to another set of stairs. They were led to a single door, and told to wait back a few steps. The guard hesitantly knocked three times on the door.

"Who da hell is it?" the sharp, annoyed, tone of Spot Conlon snapped. Rookie couldn't help but smiling, but quickly caught herself before it was noticed by the others.

"It's Gunnah, sir," the guard newsie.

"What doya want?" Spot replied. "It bettah be good." The threat in his tone was scary.

"T'ree newsies from 'Hattan, sir," Gunnah replied. "Dey says dey gotta message from Cowboy foah ya." There was a silence.

"I want names," was the steady reply from the other side of the door. It sounded much closer, as if he was only just on the opposite side.

"Itey."

"Sweetheart."

"Rookie…and Bear."

The door opened, and Gunner was told to "Beat it" by the dark silhouette of Spot Conlon. He told the Manhattaners to enter, and they filed into his room. When they came into the candle-lit room, Rookie saw that it look like they had awoken Spot from sleeping. He was in nothing but pants with the suspenders pulled up on his shoulders. Rookie and him caught eyes. He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, glaring. Only he would know that it was playful. To others: glare of death.

"Sos Jacky-boy's sent me a message, eh?" he asked, looking to Itey and Sweetheart. Rookie noted his eyes stopped on Sweetheart, and they seemed to exchange something in their eyes. It made Rookie very nervous, and she began stroking Bear's head.

"Yeah, heah," Itey said, and handed the note to Spot. He took it, and brought it over to the candle. Reading it, he sighed and nodded.

"Tell 'em I'll be dere," he told them. The Manhattaner's cue to leave.

And no news from the Brooklyn Bridge, Rookie thought to herself in relief. She and Itey made their way toward the door, but were stopped.

"Oh," Sweetheart had spoken up. "Cowboy sends warning. The Delancy's are back. They've already attacked one of our newsies, so he advises you warn your own." Spot nodded. Itey filed out, and then Sweetheart, somehow pushing Rookie to the back somewhere. Not exactly where she wanted to be at the moment.

"Rookie," he said, just as the three were leaving. She turned, her heart throwing itself into her ribcage. She looked at him cautiously, and watched as he walked over to her. When he was only two steps away, he held a hand out. There were to pieces of paper, but he slid one into the other so it wasn't visible. One was marked with a 'J' the other with an 'R'. The J was on the outside, the R slid into hide in its folds. "Befoahs I foahget. I was gonna send dis ta 'Hattan in da mornin'. Give dis ta Jack-y boy." Rookie nodded and took the two notes, putting them in her pocket. Without another word, she turned and followed Itey and Sweetheart out.

"Here," she said, taking the top note out (and making sure it had the J on it while she extended her hand) and handing it to Sweetheart. "Give that to Cowboy. I don't trust myself to keep it safe, even for the walk home." Sweetheart nodded and took the note, slipping it into the breast pocket (a rare find in a newsie shirt) of her top.

They met Gunner at the bottom of the steps. "I's ta escort ya's to da Bridge, an' den yous can make it out on yoah own." The group agreed, and Rookie wondered if they were all thanking the good Lord. If they had a Brooklynite with them when they came across the Bridge conflict, things could go horribly wrong.

Rookie's heart was pounding all the way back to the Bridge. She had Bear walk as close as possible to her, and she stayed as close to Itey as possible without being completely awkward. When Gunner told them they were on their own, they all tightened the group so they were walking shoulder to shoulder.

"When we's get in sights of da Brooklynites on da Bridge, we run right t'rough 'em, got it?" Itey mumbled to the girls. Sweetheart and Rookie nodded, exchanging quick glances. Rookie couldn't help wondering if the others held their hearts in their throats at the moment. Were they so used to this, so practiced, that it didn't affect them? She wondered if she would ever grow used to it herself.

It was a strange sight, when they came in eyeshot of the peak of the Bridge. There were three newsies facing seven others, spreading themselves across the width of the Bridge. Enemy facing off enemy. Brooklyn vs. Manhattan, and for once, Manhattan had the extreme upper hand. It almost made Rookie want to smile.

The three quickened their pace, trying to stay silent in the night. Itey waved to the Manhattan newsies, and then turned to the girls. "When I's says so." he said, and they nodded.

"Ready…" he said. They were within yards of the Brooklynites' backs.

"Set…" The three quickened their pace to a near walk-run, their legs now pitter-pattering against the pavement. A Brooklynite turned around. Echo.

"Go." The three bolted forward, Rookie grabbing Bear's collar and maneuvering herself as far away from Echo as she could.

It was over in seconds. The three made it across the line easily, the Brooklynites were spread too far apart to catch them, not to mention they were heavily caught off guard. But that didn't matter to Rookie. She stopped and kneeled down next to Bear, making sure that she was all right. She looked up at Sweetheart and smiled. They had made it across the line. They were in Manhattan, and they were safe.

For now.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**-sheepish smile-  
I am SO incredibly sorry for making you guys wait a MONTH. That was truly horrible of me, and I'm very sorry. But I went away for the whole first week, and then after that life's been hectic. School starts this Tuesday (the 8th) for me, and I would love to get a chapter up before then, but I don't know if that's going to work. So sadly, no promises.**

**However, I'm going to warn you. I'm going to my Junior year. This means everything gets kicked up a notch, and I really don't know how often I'll be able to update. I'll really try to use my weekends to the best of my ability, and keep a bi-weekly update going. Once again. Sadly, no promises.**

**Stupid school.**

**SO. Back onto the subject of this fiction. What'd you guys think? I *hope* I didn't disappoint you guys! Please tell me what you thought, and feel free to rip me apart for not updating for so long, as that was a very mean thing for me to do.**

**Tell me what you think, please!**

**Love always,  
xFlipperx**

**P.S. HUGE thanks to XScree-ScreeX, Newsies-own-me, 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0, EmeraldGreyClouds, oXPunkieXo, NeverBeTamed, Dimonah Tralon, Sportin' Purple Neck Pillows, and ilovenewsies for your fantastic reviews of Chapter Twenty-Four. And thanks to Mononoke Lynn for your fantastic reviews of every chapter. You guys are the best. =]  
**

**P.P.S. Chapter title = "Something's Coming" from West Side Story**


	26. You've Got a Friend in Me

Only Time Will Tell  
A "Newsies" Fanfiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I do not own "Newsies" or it's characters. I simply own the characters I have created and the plot._

**Chapter Twenty-Six: You've Got a Friend in Me**

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_**We needta talk. Soon. Tonite. **_

_**-Spot**_

And so said the note that was discarded, the words ripped in half by a seemingly never-ending war. The meeting that never was, because of a few newsies and a Bridge.

It's funny how twenty-four hours can change everything, if not as obviously as it seems.

**Spot's P.O.V.**

It had only been last night that the Manhattan Newsies had "taken" their half of the Brooklyn Bridge. It had only been last night that Rookie had come to the Brooklyn Lodging House with two other newsies to deliver a message. You would think that would be enough to satisfy his need to see her for another week.

Well, you're wrong.

He hadn't spoken to Rookie --really spoken to her-- for three days.

Somehow, that was just too long.

Ironic, no?

Last night, that was a tease.

Three days…

Who was he becoming?

Three days…

Spot Conlon was going to change that.

**Rookie's P.O.V.**

She was well aware that someone was walking around the bunkroom. She heard them at first, and as she squinted her eyes open, she could just see a silhouette moving in the moon-illuminated darkness. Whoever it was, they weren't supposed to be there. All the Manhattan newsies --save those working their shift at the Brooklyn Bridge-- had climbed into bed at the same time. No, this was no Manhattaner.

Rookie shut her eyes tightly, her chest straining and her heart throwing itself against her ribcage. She shifted just barely, clasping some of Bear's fur tightly between her fingers. She was absolutely terrified of who could be lurking around the Lodging House in the middle of the night. At the moment, Manhattan had quite a few unfriendly enemies.

_Just yell_, she told herself mentally. _It will wake everyone else up, and it would be thirty-four to one._ She opened her mouth and took a breath. Just as she did, the footsteps encroached on her and she felt a hand over her mouth. Rookie went rigid and her eyes shot open. In the pitch-black darkness, she could still only see the silhouette of a head. She curled her lips back over her teeth and went to bite her attackers' hand, while gently nudging Bear awake with her foot.

"No no no," the silhouette whispered harshly. "Don'tya dare bite me again." Rookie let out a sigh of relief and put a hand on Bear to silence any coming snarls or barks. She closed her lips, and the hand over her mouth relaxed, but stayed where it was.

"Come wit me," the voice said gently, and Rookie rolled her eyes. The silhouette removed a hand and stepped away from the bunk. Rookie got up and tapped Bear, telling her to stay. The pup needed a proper amount of sleep, and Rookie couldn't drag her around Manhattan in the middle of the night.

She buttoned her shirt up as they left the room, leaving the top three unbuttoned. It was one hell of a hot night, and she wanted to catch as much of a cool breeze as the night air provided. As they walked down the stairs, she straightened her hair with her fingers and pulled it back in one of the last elastics she owned.

They stayed silent as we walked out of the Lodging House, and well into the alleyway. It was strange to Rookie, having someone who wasn't from Manhattan lead her around as if it was his home his whole life.

She had basically come to the conclusion that he had a spy in Manhattan, but who, she couldn't guess in the slightest. At the moment, all of the 'Hatteners seemed to hate him with the same fiery passion. But perhaps, she shouldn't be looking for the one who hated him the least, but the most. Or, quite possibly, the one with the most animosity toward Jack. Even as she went over everyone in her mind, she couldn't pick out one from the other.

When they were far enough away from the Lodging House and far enough away from Manhattan guard posts, Spot turned around and faced Rookie. They stood near a lamp post, so she could see his features well enough.

"Sometimes, Spot Conlon, I believe you to be insane," Rookie told him, leaning up against the building they were in front of. "But then again, in your case, I might be mistaking insanity for genius." He shrugged and shook his head, but his eyes lit up, his mouth turning into a smirk.

"If ya t'ought I was mad, ya wouldn'ta folla'd me, wouldja?" he asked her. Rookie smiled and shook her head.

"No, I suppose not," she replied. There was a moment's pause before she looked at him and said: "Why are you here?" Spot shrugged.

"'Coz I can't stand bein' away from you?" he replied, a joking tone edging his words.

"Knew it," Rookie replied in the same tone. Her next question was going to be "How did you get here?" but she decided to leave war and politics out of their fun. So instead, she asked "Where are we going tonight?" He shrugged at her.

"We's can just walk around foah a little bit." Rookie nodded at the idea, and soon they were on their way. It only took a few steps before they began talk with ease again.

Rookie noticed that when they talked, it was easy for both of them. They both had their hands at their sides, not shoved in their pockets or wringing, completely relaxed. Even though she did most of the talking, she definitely noticed that Spot took part in the conversation far more than how he might have with any others, or just in the daytime in general. Perhaps it was the night that relaxed him, perhaps it was the quiet company.

"Hey!" Spot snapped when Rookie jabbed her fist into his shoulder after he had made a rude comment about Jack.

"That's my leader you're talking about," Rookie warned, hardly joking. Spot looked at her in surprise, and she watched him carefully.

"No need ta hit me," he protested.

"Wouldn't you want your newsies to react in the same fashion if someone insulted you?" she inquired, quite serious now.

"Shoah shoah," Spot said, still holding a glare to her eyes. She returned it, but wound up breaking the eye contact, quite intimidated by his glare.

They walked on a few more blocks in silence, both of them cooling off the quick flare of their tempers. Rookie's mind had wandered to the time, and she contemplated how late it was. She also focused on trying to remember when shifts for the Bridge changed, because she would have to be back before then. She also wondered what Spot thought of the seizing of the Bridge. He had to know she had given Jack the information about it, and yet there he was beside her.

And then suddenly, his cane went straight out in front of her, forcing her to stop short. She almost fell, and looked at Spot in confusion. She was going to ask him why they stopped, but suddenly they were walking again. He stopped them short, and just as Rookie was turning her head to ask Spot what the hell was going on, she heard the faint stumble of footsteps behind them. She and Spot met eyes, and she began taking deep breaths.

They were being followed.

So many thoughts began rushing through Rookie's ears and around her brain. There were so many possibilities to who their little stalker was. Or stalkers. Any one of the Manhattan newsies on guard patrol, Suave. _Oh please don't let it be Suave!_ she thought to herself as she really began to become unsettled. _He would not understand!_

Spot had forced them into a walk again, and as she thought about it carefully, she could hear footsteps behind them. He had slid one arm around her and had her pinned close to his side so that they kept the same pace and if he needed to, he could push her out of the way.

And then, just as quickly as they had come, they had disappeared.

Rookie's heart rate only slowed down slightly. So they weren't following them anymore, whoever it was still had seen Spot and Rookie together, and just that thought brought absolute horror to Rookie's mind.

Spot put his arm back at his side, but Rookie could see he was still alert. "Just listen real good, okay?" he clarified with her in a hushed tone. "I's t'ink they's gone, but I ain't shoah."

"Okay," Rookie replied. "Spot, I've got to get back to the Lodging House, _now._" Spot nodded in understanding and they turned around right where they were and began to walk in the opposite direction, back toward the Lodging House.

"What has we heah?" a smooth voice came from an alley as they passed it. Spot stopped and instantly drew his cane out from between his shirt and suspenders like a saber.

"Looks ta me, Osca', like we's found wittle Spotty-boy outta his terrah-tory!" a second voice chimed in. Spot seemed to relax his motions, but took his cane and gently pressed it against Rookie's stomach, urging her backward, a step or two behind him.

"Looks ta me like he's gotta goilfriend!" the original voice --Oscar, Rookie presumed-- replied.

"Beat it, Delanceys," Spot warned as two dark figures moved out of the alley.

_Delancey_, Rookie thought to herself. _Mother-of-God._

"Look at dat, Morris," Oscar said, and as they encroached, Rookie noted that they were a little taller than Spot, but were much more muscled. "Little Spotty-boy still t'inks he can tell us what ta do!"

"What a laugh!" Morris replied, and his eyes fell on Rookie. Spot went rigid.

"Ya got two seconds to get yoah filthy eyes offa her," he warned. His voice was completely cold, but completely relaxed. It was one of those times that made Rookie feel chills up her spine, and she took a step back. Morris laughed cruelly at Spot, and took a step toward Rookie. Spot took a step toward Morris, and Rookie took another step backward. As some sort of cruel joke, Morris jumped at Rookie, and she fell backwards. She righted herself, just in time to see Spot move himself in front of Morris, they were practically chest-to-chest.

"I said stay away from her," he growled.

"No, you said ta keep me filthy eyes offa her," Morris replied. "I closed me eyes when I jumped at her." He gently nudged Spot backwards with a quick push of his fist against Spot's chest. "Ya gotta loin to be moah spec..specif…specified…" Spot didn't wait for Morris to finish his words to punch him straight in the nose.

"Specific, ya dumbass," he said as he watched the other fall backwards. Rookie's attention was caught by Oscar moving in toward Spot. Thinking quickly -or perhaps, she didn't think at all-, she charged toward Oscar and pushed him away from Spot with all her might. The Delancey brother stuttered backwards, and in only a second was right back at her.

He through a punch and got her in the stomach. Rookie let out a groan but tried with all that she had to ignore the pain and prevent Oscar from helping Morris to gang up on Spot. It hurt to move, and she was slow and awkward, but she got in front of Oscar and threw a right-hook at his cheek. He took a step backward but was ultimately unaffected by the blow.

Spot was suddenly in front of her, ready to take on Oscar, and Rookie turned to get Morris, who was quick to recover from whatever Spot had just thrown at him. Morris was much bigger than Oscar, and Rookie gulped before she took a few quick steps and punched him in the face. He grabbed her wrist and she kicked him hard between the legs. He groaned and let go of her wrist, and she rushed to help Spot.

Spot was doing quite all right on his own. He easily avoided Oscar's attacks, and with even more ease landed quite a few good blows of his own. But Rookie snuck up behind Oscar, and with a nod from Spot, got him from the back.

By this time, Morris had recovered, and Spot turned his back to Oscar to focus on the larger of the brothers. So Oscar turned his attention to Rookie and they went at it.

For the next ten minutes, Rookie and Spot fought with each other, for each other. Side by side, or one on one. The world in Rookie's mind shrunk to the size of the alleyway, and there was nothing beyond it's limits.

By the end of the ten minutes, both sides were tiring. There was more time in between attacks from either side, and more energy focused on particular attacks, rather on the fight as a whole. At the present time, Rookie was trying to keep Oscar away from getting to Spot, who was basically finishing off beating Morris to a pulp. She missed a shot to Oscar's head, and he took the opportunity to lunge at Spot.

And then it happened again. Just like it happened when she was fighting Kid Blink, just as it was when Talker thought Spot killed Ringer. The world slowed down, and Rookie had time to think. So she pulled the signature move that helped her win a fight and prevent Spot from being attacked by Talker. She waited for him to be a step ahead of her before she lunged at Oscar and grabbed onto his shoulders. Her legs rapped around his middle and she threw her weight to the side.

Oscar stumbled and tripped, falling into the brick wall. Rookie dropped off him and landed with a hard "thud" as her butt hit the dirt and her side hit the brick wall. She winced as she heard the sound of Oscar's skull meeting brick and scrambled away as he fell backwards. Spot grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She/ whimpered, he grabbed the arm that she had just smacked against the brick wall, but stood up none-the-less.

Morris and Oscar lay on the ground of the alleyway, each in some state of stupor. Rookie smiled, and then, she laughed. She looked at Spot, who was looking at her like she was crazy. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed still laughing. Spot patted her back gently, and she took that as her cue to release him.

"What do ya mean, dat was fun?" Spot asked her, beginning to pull her away from the scene. They hadn't been quiet during the fight, and it was sure to have caught someone's attention.

"It was fun," Rookie replied. "I mean, I suppose it was some sort of rush. It was as if it was only the four of us in the world, and it was us against them. And…" She paused. "I must sound absolutely insane, but it's true. I had fun." She shrugged. Spot laughed and ruffled the top of her hair. She glared at him jokingly, but smiled despite what she tried to portray with her eyes.

They walked in a few moments silence before Spot commented. "Ya know, ya got a style ta yoah fightin'." Rookie almost barked a laugh.

"Yeah, it's called _terrible_," she replied.

"No, it's real good," he insisted. "Ya sohta reminded me of a tiga cub, ya' know? Good enough to damage, but too young an' inaxpehrienced ta do any bettah. But wit some 'xperience an' trainin…" Rookie whistled despite herself. She was completely surprised that Spot knew what a tiger was. But then again, she supposed that it was absolutely possible that they were in the news every once in a while for attacks on American explorers or something of the sort.

But then she caught the end of the sentence. He thought that she would be good with training! She smiled and looked at him. "Well, will you be the one training me?"

"Ya wanna loin from da best, doncha?" Rookie laughed and nodded.

"Will you teach me?" she asked excitedly. "When can we start?"

"Soon enough, Tiga," he told her, and she enveloped him in another hug. This time, she felt his arms around her back, and he hugged her in return. His voice was much softer, a bit huskier when they pulled away, both looking straight into each other's eyes.

"All right Tiga," Spot said in that complete change of tone, "S'enough excitement foah dis evenin', let's getcha home."

Rookie sighed and nodded.

Ahhh, the promise of a new beginning.

_**

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**_

**Author's Note:**

**-sheepish smile-**

**So, even though it was much delayed, what didya think?**

**PLEASE review! Complement, critique, anything! I want to hear your opinions!**

**A HUGE thanks to **oXPunkieXo**, **ellestJenn**, **XScree-ScreeX**,** Newsies-own-me**,** Dimonah Tralon**, **XxxEFreakxxX**,** 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0**,** ilovenewsies**,** MushSpotGoil**,** **and **Monoke Lynn **for your fabulous reviews of Chapter 25! Keep those reviews coming! And thanks to all who have added me to your Author Alert, Favorite Author, and put Only Time Will Tell on your Story Alert. You have no idea how much that means to me! Thank you all so much!**

**As nerdy as it sounds, the chapter title/song is "You Got a Friend in Me" from Disney and Pixar's Toy Story.**

**Much Love, as Always,  
xFlipperx**


	27. Sieze the Day

Only Time Will Tell_  
Written by xFlipperx_

Disclaimer: I do not own "Newsies". Disney does. I own the plot and my Brain Children. That is all.**  
Author's Note:**** It has been too long! I apologize deeply and hope there are still a few of you out there willing to read this fic, even after I have been so horrible to you. There will be a better explanation at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!**

******

**Chapter Twenty Seven: Seize the Day**

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Rookie woke up early in the morning as usual and crept out of bed with Bear. She washed up quickly, grabbed her slingshot, and walked out of the Lodging House. Passing Kloppman on the way down, she bade him good morning and then walked straight out the front and into the side alley.

She didn't think that there was going to be a note left behind the loose brick this morning, but this part of her morning routine relaxed her nerves. She pulled back the brick, and to no surprise, there was no note. Despite her slight disappointment, she was a little relieved. If Spot had tried to sneak into Manhattan today and got himself caught, the thought of peace would vanish into thin air.

For that was what today was all about. The prospect of ending the war, the prospect of peace. Today, the four main leaders plus their right-hand-men and the two leaders from Harlem and the Battery would meet at the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. There, peace would be discussed and a future would be made, or at least the plans of it would.

Rookie sighed and walked back to the Lodging House. She took out her slingshot from her pocket and began firing stones she found on the ground (she had lost all her marbles back at the fight in Brooklyn) at the wall. She wasn't really aiming, just firing to let off some stress as she waited for the other newsies to come down to get breakfast.

Today the newsies were only going to be selling briefly in the morning, just enough papers so they could afford a meal later on in the day. Jack's orders specifically were: "Sell what ya need ta sell, den get da hell offa da streets. I wantcha guys in or around heah 'till I get back, undahstand?"

Suave slipped an arm around Rookie's waist as they walked out to the nun cart. The newsies were quiet, even the young ones. Scraps and Buttons were having a visibly hard time with the silence, but were being silent because the older newsies were. At one point during their walk to the distribution center, the two looked like they were going to start being rowdy, but Pirate put a hand on top of his little sister's head and put an end to the inkling of rowdiness.

Suave and Rookie didn't even say anything as they departed to their separate selling spots. They exchanged a quick kiss, a nervous smile and went their different ways. Rookie sighed as she walked, deep in thought.

*******

Selling that morning dragged on for what seemed days. At the end of the second week of August, the heat was unbearable, and Rookie couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting, so she often missed customers or confused her headlines. Around eleven-thirty, she gave up all together. She figured going hungry one night wouldn't be so bad, as long as she could find something for Bear to eat.

So she found herself slumping back to the Lodging House around noon. Instead of joining the others in the bunkroom, she and Bear moved themselves up to the roof. Rookie didn't want to stay in the tight silence. If she was going to worry, she would prefer to do it alone.

Rookie was surprised when she reached the roof and found she would not be alone. Sweetheart was sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling off. Not wanting to startle her and cause an accident, Rookie made a lot of unnecessary noise as she walked over.

"May I join you?" Rookie asked the other newsie when they turned their heads to the noise. Sweetheart nodded and patted the space next to her. Rookie sat down cross-legged and had Bear lay down far from the edge. Rookie stared out, seeing the Brooklyn Bridge peering over the tops of buildings in the distance.

"Nervous?" she murmured to Sweetheart.

"No…and yes," Sweetheart replied. "I trust Cowboy to do what's right, and I can see he's got some sort of plan hidden up his sleeve. And I even trust Spot Conlon to not do anything stupid, he loves Brooklyn too much to threaten it with a larger war. But then again, if the slightest thing goes wrong…"

"I suppose it wasn't a smart idea to have them meet on a bridge?" Rookie added. She didn't mean for it to be a comical remark, but Sweetheart chuckled and shook her head.

"No, I suppose it wasn't…" she replied slowly, her eyes searching the distance. Without turning back to her, she then asked: "What about you?"

"I'm absolutely nervous," Rookie replied without hesitation. "I trust Cowboy, but-"

"Well, you're not only worried about Cowboy are you?" Sweetheart's question made Rookie turn her head sharply. Sweetheart turned to Rookie, a knowing smile playing her lips. "Don't try to play dumb with me either. I know about you and Spot Conlon."

Rookie shushed Sweetheart, her own eyes widening and unconsciously beginning to wring her hands. "How do you know?" she asked in a hushed tone. Sweetheart shook her head and smiled. She then motioned for Rookie to follow her as she stood up suddenly and began walking to another point in the roof.

When Rookie joined Sweetheart, Sweetheart pointed to an alleyway. The same alleyway that Rookie and Spot had been exchanging notes through. "You two shouldn't always assume that you're the only early-birds in New York," Sweetheart said, her tone suddenly serious.

"I wasn't just given the name 'Sweetheart' just-because, Rook," her voice now quiet. "I won't hate you or judge you, as long as you tell me truthfully, and look in my eyes when you do…" Rookie turned and made eye contact with Sweetheart. "What _are_ you and Spot? Just please, tell me you're not cheating on Suave."

"I would never!" Rookie replied without hesitation. "It is only a friendship Spot and I share, nothing more. I could never dream of being unfaithful to Suave." Sweetheart nodded and a smile appeared on her lips.

"Okay, good," she said. "That's good."

For the next few minutes, the two girls discussed Spot. Sweetheart asked for a few more intimate details about their relationship, and Rookie gladly provided. She trusted Sweetheart completely, but a part of Rookie also wanted to save her own skin. If she evaded questions or answered generally, she would be acting suspicious. So, to a point, Rookie answered every question Sweetheart asked.

About ten or fifteen minutes later, Rookie noticed Bear panting heavily and decided it was time for them to head downstairs. Sweetheart agreed to join them, and the three returned to the bunkroom. It was silent, except for a few whispered conversations and a quiet card game going on in the far corner. Rookie brought Bear straight over to the sink in the washroom and made sure the large pup had plenty of water, and then returned to her bunk to find a apparently sleeping Suave.

But when she moved next to him on the bed, quiet and gentle as she was, he awoke and cracked a smile when he saw her. He ran his fingers through her low pony-tail and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Rookie resisted the urge to grimace or pull away, as the heat really did prevent any longing for the physical part of their relationship to surface. But she knew that Suave was worried, she could see it in the way he creased his brow, and the in the monotonic way he greeted her with a "Hello, Rookie." So she snuggled up to him, grabbing a piece of his shirt and holding it tightly in her hand. She was worried as well, and needed to hold onto something, even if it was extremely uncomfortable.

Rookie was sweating in a matter of minutes, as was Suave. Rookie offered to sit on the floor instead, but Suave shook his head and held on tight. "Everything's going to be fine," Rookie tried to soothe, contradicting her own feelings. "There is no reason to be so worried."

"There are a hundred reasons to be worried, Rook," Suave replied, looking down into her eyes. Rookie could see his eyes were glassy. He was far, far away, and Rookie was impressed at his ability to hold a conversation. "So please, just stay here with me…please?" Rookie nodded.

"Of course," she murmured, though she longed to stick her head under the faucet of the sink in the washroom. Suave needed her, and she needed somebody as well. _But why does it feel like I'd rather be anywhere but here?_ she wondered to herself. Shaking the thought from her head, another one popped in. _Not anywhere but here, anywhere with Spot._ Rookie's eyes widened at her own thoughts.

So quickly, she reached up her chin and kissed Suave's lower jaw. "I love you," she murmured in absolute truth. It wasn't that she was wishing to be anywhere with Spot that irked her, it was that she'd rather be with Spot than Suave. It was confusing. She loved Suave, of course, with every beat of her heart. She knew that she did, but she didn't know why she didn't want to be with him every second, like she used to. Maybe it was just the heat.

She didn't have much time to dwell on the thought because just as Suave replied with "I love you too,", the door to the bunkroom swung open. All the newsies sat or stood up (which Rookie was slightly relieved to have done, she was starting to get dizzy with heat), all eyes completely trained on the door.

First, Jack walked in. His chin was high, and he scanned his bunkroom quickly with his eyes. He walked up a few paces and stopped in the middle of the room. Following him was David. His eyes were moving nervously across the room, to Jack, behind him quickly, and then back to the floor. And then walked in Talker. Her head was high, but her facial expression was tight and her body was rigid. Following her was a Queens newsie named Gab who Rookie had seen only a few times delivering messages to Jack. She wore the same expression as Talker. This made Rookie slightly nervous.

But then Fire walked in. His attitude and movement were nonchalant, but observant. His eyes roamed around the bunkroom lazily, making eye contact with each and every Manhattan Newsie. Behind him walked a short red-haired newsie with sharp green eyes. He acted as almost a mirror of Fire, but was less convincing with his nonchalance. Rookie didn't fail to pick up the excitement of his quick gestures.

And then, finally, Spot Conlon appeared in the doorway. He was as nonchalant as ever. A lopsided smirk played his lips, and he twirled his cane in his fingers. Rookie saw that his eyes were livelier than the rest of him, and that gave her hope. He made eye contact with her and winked, and she forced herself to restrain a smile. Instead she just raised her eyebrows.

Jack put up a hand, as if their was noise to silence in the bunkroom. His eyes swept his newsies and the other leaders one last time before he cleared his throat. In a loud, clear tone he announced: "Peace!"

_**

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**_

**Author's Note****:**

**Okay, so you guys probably hate me! I make you wait two months and then all you get is this dinky little three-page chapter. And I am sincerely sorry! Eleventh grade has been pretty horrible to me, and not to mention I completely lost all muse for a while. I also have tried to kick-start three other projects, a LOTR fan fiction, a Santa Claus fiction, and a new novel idea I got a while ago.**

**So life's been hectic and muse has run low. But I finished this chapter, and I know I promise this a lot, but the next chapter is when things_really_ start to heat up.**

**A HUGE thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter 26: **XxxEFreakxxX**,** Newsies-own-me**,** MushSpotgoil**,** oXPunkieXo**,** ilovenewsies**, **EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Echo Quinlan**, **XScree-ScreeX**,** ellestJenn**,** Myst S**, **Spotty's Goil**,** OrigamiChick**,** DeanPortmanlover21**,** Mononoke Lynn**, and **misato.

**Much love and many apologies,  
xFlipperx**

**P.S. Title = "Sieze the Day" from Newsies. I know unoriginal, but that's what I thought of when I was writing it.  
**


	28. Somebody's Baby

Only Time Will Tell_  
A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. -sigh- Wouldn't that be nice…

******

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Somebody's Baby**

* * *

Since the announcement of peace three days previous, the Manhattan Lodging House had been abuzz with a cheerier attitude all around. It made Rookie smile to hear the boys singing in the morning again, and even Shadow and Sweetheart joined in. Cat would just raise an eyebrow and crack a smirk, and Rookie didn't know the words. Not to mention, her voice was never praised (and she knew quite well it didn't deserve to be), and she was quite self-conscious.

But another reason to be quite cheerful was going to be the party that night at Medda's. The idea was Spot Conlon's, and Jack was able to pull in a favor from the vaudeville superstar. All the Newsies from New York were invited, but no one besides the four main boroughs was showing up. Though confused about this at first, Rookie eventually came to the conclusion that though the invitation was offered, it wasn't meant to be taken. Some newsie law or moral or unwritten rule or something of the sort.

As Rookie walked back to the Lodging House that evening, she wondered to herself what she was to wear. She still had a skirt and a blouse, but she figured she should just wear her pants and button-up shirt. And was she supposed to do anything special with her hair or keep her cap clapped over the oily mess.

"Rook! Rookie!" Rookie turned sharply at the calling of her name, and saw Sweetheart running toward her.

"Hey there, Sweet," Rookie greeted, putting her arm over Sweetheart's shoulder when the blonde came running up to Rookie, her plaited braid flapping in all directions. Sweetheart put her arm on Rookie's shoulder as well and the two started walking side by side. Over the passed three days, since their talk on the top of the roof, Sweetheart and Rookie had become close.

Once Sweetheart caught her breath, she looked over at Rookie. "You aren't wearing your newsie-y-ing clothes tonight, are you?" she asked.

Rookie shrugged and replied: "I don't know."

"Well you have a skirt, don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Then you're wearing that," Sweetheart told her with some point of finality. Rookie raised an eyebrow at her friend, but waited patiently until she continued. "You see, technically all the girls in the Lodging House are supposed to have skirts and blouses and corsets for special occasions, it's some new rule of Cowboy's. He says that we should attempt to look a little more professional or something along those lines, or we don't want to have the reputation of complete street rats."

"Oh, okay then, well lucky me," Rookie replied with a smile. She sort-of understood Jack's reasoning for the girls to wear skirts, and all-in-all was very relieved that her attire was practically picked out for her, and she didn't have to worry about looking ridiculous to either extreme of her choices.

The two chatted lightly on the way back to the Lodging House. On the way, Racetrack and Shadow joined them. Being quite the ladies man he pretended to be, Racetrack walked in the middle of them, a broad smile on his lips. The earlier words of Sweetheart rang in Rookie's ears, causing her to smirk. _Complete street rats, _she thought to herself.

It was almost seven o'clock when they reached the Lodging House, and they had to be at Medda's by eight. When they arrived, Jack was hurrying about, declaring that they had to be there earlier than everyone else. In the end, it was decided that he wanted to be there at seven forty-five, so things became a little frenzied.

Everyone was instructed by David to look their best. While most of the others (meaning the boys, the only girl that seemed to object to getting gussied up was Cat) groaned and griped, Rookie understood the need for it. He wanted the Manhattan newsies to make a good impression, and show them that they were treating this with the utmost importance.

Being rushed along, the girls dunked their heads into a basin of cold water and scrubbed in whatever soap they could find. Considering that it wasn't meant for shampoo, the aftermath of that "Well-thought-out disaster," as Sweetheart snapped, was five girls complaining as they attempted to brush out their hair and one very teary-eyed Button complaining about how her hair was full of knots. She was so terrified of the pain from running a brush or comb through her thin brunette curls that none of the girls could get near her. In the end, Pirate had to come to his little sister's rescue, and gently brushed her hair. He got neck from the other guys for a minute or too, but Button cried out:

"Shut up ya scabbahs!" she exclaimed, her squeaky voice filled with anger. "Stop pickin' on me bruddah or I'ma…I'ma…"

"Button, enough," Pirate said, a smile forming on his lips, his words breaking with the attempt to hold back laughter.

"Say yoah sowwy!" Button demanded to Boots and Skittery, ignoring her brother's request. At first they looked at the red-faced girl, in all her tears, her brother still gently running a brush through her hair. When they didn't apologize, another squeaky-growl erupted from the five year-old's lips. "Say it!"

"All right, all right, we're sorry, we're sorry," Boots said quickly, though Rookie noticed his lip starting to curl up.

"Yeah, yeah, we's sorry, Pirate," Skittery said, not able to hide the smile on his face. "We's just jokin' around an' shit." The two newsies shuffled away from Button, who was nearing a temper tantrum with every second.

Rookie asked Sweetheart what they were going to do about Scraps and Button, because they were so young and were going to be up passed their usual "bedtime" only an hour into the event. Sweetheart informed Rookie that around nine o' clock, Pirate would bring them as well as the other young ones from the separate boroughs back to the Lodging House where they would be watched over by Kloppman.

After her hair was dry and brushed, Rookie went under her mattress and into her old saddlebag. She pulled out her brown skirt, white blouse, corset, and old boots, a gasp catching in her throat. The last time she had worn this attire…

_No_, she said mentally to herself with as much force as she could muster. _You are not going to think about that, Rookie. _She forced the thoughts from her mind and gathered her things and went into the sick room with the other girls to change.

"This is horrible," Cat spat as Sweetheart pulled gently on the strings of Cat's tattered, stained corset. _Their corsets are probably stolen or were rummaged,_ Rookie thought to herself, looking at her own corset.

But in a few minutes, Rookie was spitting out the same words. She forgot how horrible it was to dress like a young woman of 1900, and remembered why she enjoyed dressing like a boy so much. Though, the freedom of the skirt was no so bad.

After dressing, all the girls did each others hair. Sweetheart's was plaited, Cat's was pulled back into a high ponytail, for she insisted nothing special be done to it, Runner's was brought back into a half-up, half-down pony-tail, and Shadow's was pulled up into a tight bun. Rookie's was pulled into a similar style as Runner's, but with a simple braid rather than a pony tail.

The girls rushed out and down the stairs to the front to meet the boys as fast as they could. Most of them had forgotten the strains of wearing a corset, and all of them were taking short gasps of breath by the time they reach the street outside. To no surprise, they were met by cheeky wolf-whistles and teasing of all sorts. Rookie was met by Suave with wide eyes and a kiss on the cheek. "You look beautiful, Rook," he murmured in her ear, and she smiled and kissed his cheek in return.

It was an odd sight, forty newsies walking down the streets of Manhattan. Rookie thought that some of the passersby's must have thought that there was going to be an uprising or a riot of some sort. She shook her head at the thought with a small smile, for the gathering was for the exact opposite reason.

Peace. She liked how that sounded. Peace. Peace was good; peace would be wonderful for the newsies.

When they got to Medda's they all filed and took seats at the tables of their choosing. Suave and Rookie wound up at a table with Pirate, Sweetheart, Boots, and Runner. _Good company,_ Rookie mused to herself, a smile playing her lips. _Good protection._ She couldn't help thinking about Echo. Even though there was a declaration of peace between the leaders, it meant nothing between Rookie and Echo. Though a part of her wished their was peace between them, another part of Rookie wanted to rip Echo apart the next time she saw her, make Echo experience the same pain she made Rookie experience.

After explaining her fears to Suave, he told her that he would make sure that she and Echo would always be as far away from each other as possible. "Consider it, it won't be that hard," he told her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "There are going to be more than a hundred newsies here, it'll be easy to get lost in a crowd." Rookie nodded and sighed, her eyes searching around for Jack and David. They were both with Medda, seemingly making their final arrangements. Now all there was to do was wait for the other newsies to arrive.

When the other newsies did arrive minutes later, it was a spectacular sight. It seemed as if it happened all at once. Suddenly there was just a hundred newsies filing into the theater and taking their seats. Spot, Talker, and Fire made their way to the stage where Jack was waiting for them. Rookie watched them exchange a few words, her eyes -of course- trained on Spot. After the few words were exchanged and then they all spit-shook and took a table right in front of the stage.

Medda began singing, and the whole theater erupted with singing. Even Suave knew most of the words. It wasn't hard to pick up the words, and soon Rookie was murmuring: _Hard times, high times, sometimes the livin' is sweet. And sometimes there's nothin' to eat. But I always land on my feet…_ Rookie smiled, getting lost in the three songs Medda performed. Music was a beautiful escape from thoughts, fears, anxieties, and Medda was a fantastic performer.

When she finished, she received a standing ovation (most of the newsies were already standing, anyway) from everyone. Rookie stood up and whistled through her fingers, clapping enthusiastically along with everyone else.

"'ow is everyone tonight?" Medda called when everyone had sat back down. The crowd cheered again. She smiled and clasped her hands together. "Very good, very good! But let's say we make this night a little interesting, no?" More cheering, but this time it was quieter, more careful. "I am going to need two lovely ladies from the audience." Nobody stood up. "Come on now, don't be shy. This vill be _fun_!"

"Go," Suave whispered in Rookie's ear. She felt herself blush, but smiled as he practically pushed her onto her feet. "_Go._" Rookie glared at him and walked up to the stage. There were a few whistles and cat calls from the Manhattan newsies, and she turned around and stuck her tongue out playfully.

"You look very familiar," Medda said quietly, walking over to her. But then, louder, she asked. "We have lovely lady number one! And what is your name?"

"Rookie," Rookie replied quietly. "And you do know me, you watched me for a day in December."

"Running from the bulls?" she asked in a low tone. Rookie nodded. "Ahhh." She then turned herself to the audience, and called out for another volunteer. Rookie felt very awkward up on stage by herself, and her cheeks rushed red. She diverted her eyes to the floor, but heard more cheering as soon as she did. She looked up and saw the Queen of Queens walking toward the stage.

Talker walked confidently toward the stage. A maroon skirt flowed around her ankles, and her blouse had no wrinkles or stains. Rookie had to admit, she looked beautiful. Her long, dark-red hair ran down to the middle of her lower back, tied away from her face in a low pony-tail. There was even a bit of rogue about her cheeks, and Rookie decided that her lips were not naturally so red.

There was a tension between Rookie and Talker as their eyes met. They had never been on good terms after the incident in the restaurant, but there was something else that had changed. Rookie couldn't put a finger near what she saw in Talker's eyes, but it was different. _Some form of hatred,_ she mused to herself, and turned her attention to Medda. "As traditional -- turn your backs."

Rookie knew this routine. It had been a fun game at parties for those who hadn't been escorted. The girls would step forward, and then turn to face a wall or a point of the room so they had their backs to the men. The men would then stand behind the lady of their choice, and when the music began, the women turned around and the waltz ensues.

There was some cheering and whistling as two volunteers were chosen, and despite herself Rookie felt blood rise to her cheeks. She bit her lip and closed her eyes tight; nerves begin to coarse through her. Why had Suave told her to go volunteer? He was probably regretting it now, especially if Spot was one of the newsies to volunteer.

_Why would Spot do that?_ Rookie thought to herself, trying to calm her nerves. Before the contradictory part of her brain got a chance to speak up, Medda's voice called out: "Ladies, turn around!"

Rookie took a deep gulp of a breath and turned around. Her green eyes met with warm blue and she exhaled. "Suave," she murmured, and walked toward him. He smiled down at her and held his hand out dramatically. Medda was narrating what to do in the background, but the two completely disregarded it, some old part of them already knowing what to do. She took his hand and curtsied low while his lips brushed her knuckles.

"Madam," Suave murmured into Rookie's neck as Medda commanded the boys to bring the girls close. The two went along with directions, only half listening. Suave placed one hand low on Rookie's hip, the other hand clasping Rookie's fingers. Rookie put her free hand on Suave's shoulder, and he pulled her in close. There were some wolf whistles from the audience, and Rookie recognized Racetrack's voice calling something out. Medda called for the two couples to watch her perform the desired steps. Rookie looked over, and a sharp gasp emitted her lips.

There was Spot Conlon, eyes on Medda, his arms around Talker. Something stirred inside Rookie. Her chest tightened and her stomach flipped. Not the reaction she wanted. Not the reaction she wanted at all. She lowered her raised eyebrows and focused on Medda, hoping no one was really paying attention to her.

Medda finished explaining the moves, and Rookie worked hard to remember. She knew most of them, but considering the last gala or ball she had attended was back in March at Antoinette's wedding. Something caught in her throat, but as the music began, it disappeared and she was swept into the early movements by Suave.

Though the movements felt rusted and she moved through them somewhat clumsily, Rookie smiled and giggled the whole time. Suave placed his forehead against hers, and his hand dropped just a little on her back. When he sent her out in a twirl, she felt as if she was on top of the world. And when he scooped her back in, it caught her breath every time.

"And on this twirl, switch partners!" Medda cried. Suave hesitated and stumbled, sending Rookie out into an awkward twirl passed Talker. She was very close to losing balance and falling when an arm reached out around her waist and her hand was clasped. In a natural reaction her hand grabbed her savior's shoulders and held tight until the room stopped spinning and she had her balance.

"Steady dere, Tiga," Spot murmured, and Rookie realized they were still moving in the dance. She looked up and met Spot's eyes, smiling.

"Thank you so much," she replied, the same murmur emitting her lips. "I would not like to be remembered for falling on my rear while dancing."

"Anything to save yoah reputation," he replied with a small smirk. "How ya been?"

"How long has it been, a week, since I've seen you last?" she asked, a small grin playing her lips. She didn't want to appear that she was dancing with a close friend. He sent her out in a twirl, and she was able to manage this one without tottering around.

"Hah-ha," Spot said low as she returned to his arms. The two kept a respectable distance between them, and Rookie suddenly took notice how far away she felt from him. "A lot can happen in foah days, Tiga."

"Like a war ending?" she replied.

"Yeah, like that."

Rookie looked up at him and smiled, not afraid to show it this time. The war _had_ ended. It should be acceptable that she was having a good time with the leader of what was now one of Manhattan's strongest allies. He looked back at her and rolled her eyes, and she 'accidentally' stepped on his foot during a box step.

"How have you been?" Rookie asked him.

"Good, considarin' I just gained half-a bridge," he replied, his eyes shining and a thin smirk turning a corner of his mouth up. "Dat was a good move." Rookie's eyes widened and her mouth dropped a little.

"How did you-"

"Are ya really gonna ask me that?"

Rookie shook her head, took a breath and restated the question after he brought her back from a twirl. "I should've asked: If you knew that was my idea, _why _did you accept the terms." Spot's expression fell a little, and this time it was his time to shake his head slightly.

"On this twirl, switch back!" Medda shouted, and before Rookie had a chance to question Spot's reaction, she was twirled back into Suave's arms.

"Hello again," she said with a bit of a forced smile as he pulled her close once more. It wasn't that she wasn't happy to be back with Spot, it was the note that she and Spot had left on. It had left her thinking, it had left her confused.

"Having fun?" Suave asked, his voice rigid. Rookie looked at him incredulously. Was he really getting jealous? She took her hand off his shoulder and slapped him on the chest.

"Don't you dare begin acting like a jealous child," she warned him. "If you would like to know, yes, yes I was having fun with my _friend_. Just a _friend._" She looked him in the eye and smiled. "And if you would also like to know, I'd much rather be here with you." Suave just looked at her, and Rookie did all she could not to glare at him.

When the music ended, she could tell the kiss he placed on her forehead was just for effect, so she plastered a smile on her lips and walked off the stage with him. When they sat down, his arm went around her waist, but she sat stiffly against it. She was fairly angry at his jealous tendencies, and had managed to ruin the fun she had been having while dancing. So when Sweetheart asked her to join her in a trip to the powder room, Rookie readily agreed.

When Sweetheart and Rookie returned to the theater, Jack, David, Spot, Fire, and Talker were all standing on stage, and there was a roaring applaud. When Sweetheart asked Runner what had just happened, Runner replied that peace was officially announced and granted.

"An, an'," Jack began as the crowd settled down. David whispered something in Jack's ear before he continued: "Ta seal the deal, I'm invitin' the leadahs an' the numba ones an' twos ta spend the night heah in Manhattan, an' stay at the hospitality of the 'Hattan Lodgin House." Another round of applause, and Rookie's heart jumped as she applauded.

Spot would be spending the night in Manhattan. This was so perfect, she would be able to talk to him and not seem like a traitor. She smiled and clapped along with everyone else. Peace was a good thing.

********

Peace was a good thing five hours ago when all the newsies were in the theater. Peace was a good thing when there weren't twenty extra newsies in a Lodging House that was filled to the brim. It was loud, disorderly, and confusing.

People had to double up in beds, which brought arguments. Considering the fact that more than seventy-five percent of the newsies present were inebriated, the arguments were loud and often incoherent. Thankfully, Suave was one of the sober ones, and they agreed to share Rookie's bed for the night. They were just sitting down on the bed when Spot walked over. Rookie felt Suave tense, and put a gentle hand on his chest. "Stop that now," she murmured to him.

"Top bunk free?" he asked, his words slightly slurred together.

"Yes it is," Rookie replied. Spot smiled and climbed up to the bunk easily.

Whether it was for pride or just to be a bit of a jackass, Spot had chosen their bunk. Spot knew that Suave hated him, and that he hated that Rookie and him were friends even more. Rookie knew both things, and knowing Spot, guessed that it was a mixture of the two components that made him pick their particular bunk.

"Just forget about him," Rookie murmured as she and Suave lay down on the bed. Rookie had Bear lay next to the bed, since there was no room for her with two human beings on the bed.

In a sudden declaration of what must have been 'she's still mine' to Spot, Suave waited until Spot hobbled off his bed to go to the washroom to begin kissing Rookie's neck. At first, she lifted her chin and made a small noise of content, but then she wiggled away from Suave and glared at him.

"Good to know the only reason you'd think to do that is because Spot's watching," she snapped in a nearly inaudible whisper. She didn't need to bring the whole lodging house plus its guests into her private affairs.

"Haven't you ever heard that jealousy intensifies emotions?" Suave replied in the same whisper. "Of course I _thought_ to do it, but I wasn't gonna act on it…"

"You're not helping your cause, Suave," Rookie replied, her tone still sharp. He put a hand to her cheek gently. She could see the hurt in his whole facial expression, but she still grabbed his wrist and pushed it back to his side.

A chuckle came from behind Rookie, and she looked over her shoulder to see Spot climbing up the bunk. She growled to herself at the immaturity of both newsboys and spat: "Shut up and mind your own business, Conlon." The only response was another chuckle, to which she growled again, earning the raised-eyebrow looks of the newsies in the surrounding area.

It was long after all the newsies had fallen asleep before Rookie finally began to doze. She lay flat on her back, staring up into the darkness. Suave lay on his stomach, his head resting on her chest, one arm around her waist. She absent-mindedly ran her fingers through his hair, and would kiss his forehead if he stirred or moaned in his sleep.

As she lay in the darkness, she contemplated the day's events. It sure was interesting, and she wasn't going to lie to herself and say that dancing on stage wasn't the best part of it. Between the way she felt in Suave's arms and being able to talk to Spot in front of every newsie of the four major boroughs, she just had a good time. That is, until Suave's jealousy kicked in.

_There's nothing to be jealous of, _Rookie thought as she stroked Suave's hair gently. "Oh my love," she murmured and kissed his forehead. She yawned as she pulled away from his forehead, and lay her head down on her pillow. Maybe it was time to go to sleep. She let out a deep sigh, reiterating the 'there's nothing to be jealous of' thought in her mind over and over.

"You awake?" a hoarse voice whispered. Rookie froze, knowing it did not belong to Suave. She paused and listened for the voice to continue. "Tiga, you awake?" Spot.

"Yes, I'm awake," Rookie replied.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Thinking."

"Oh. 'Bout?"

"A lot of stuff that I'm too tired to explain now." Too tired to explain _now._ Sooner or later, she and Spot _would_ talk about their strictly-friend relationship. Rookie would make sure of it. What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"About?"

"A lotta stuff dat I can't explain ta ya just yet."

"Oh. Well, okay. I'm going to try and get some sleep now, okay?"

"Okay. G'night, Tiga."

"Goodnight, Spot."

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**Author's Note****: Okay, so what do you guys think? This chapter actually came out a lot different than I had first planned, by I'm actually pretty pleased with it. It's also the first 6 page chapter I've written in forever, so I hope it didn't drag on or anything.**

**Thank you to all who reviewed Chapter 27, even after I made you wait two months for the tiniest chapter ever. A GIGANTIC thank-you to: **Adrigirl19**,** newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** ilovenewsies**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**,** Echo Quinlan**,** Myst S.**,** Curly-Q**,** **and **scratch conlon**. And another GIGANTIC thank-you to all those who put me on Author Alert/ Story Alert/ Favorite Story. Without you guys, I would be nothing!**

**Chapter Title = "Somebody's Baby" by Jackson Browne. One of my favorite songs, you all should listen to it.**

**Thank you guys so much for reading, and in advance for reviewing, I owe every part of this fiction to you, you're all amazing people.**

**Much Love,**

**xFlipperx**

**P.S. Oooh I just looked at my planner and saw what was coming up in Chapter 29. Get ready for the twist you'd never expect. Bwhahaha. I'm going to try and get it out before Christmas, but if not, then I will say Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah now. Enjoy your holiday season!**


	29. White Horse

Only Time Will Tell  
A Fanfiction by xFlipperx

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. -pout-_

**Author's Note:** Before I start this chapter, I would like to thank a million times whoever the amazing soul is who nominated this fic or Hear the Bells for the New York Newsies Awards! I am so honored and even though I have won nothing, I feel like I have. Thank you to whoever nominated me, and thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers. I know I say this often, but without you, this fic would have died a long time ago. So thank you so, so much, and I wish you all the happiest of New Years!

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: White Horse**

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Rookie didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. She was perfectly comfortable laying with Suave, and she almost felt that if she got out of bed, she would forget the previous night. It didn't seem real to her, and she couldn't really believe that there was finally peace between the boroughs. But when Suave got up, kissed her, and went to the washroom, Rookie hardly had any choice.

The morning went quite sluggishly. Many of the newsies were suffering serious hangovers, and even Rookie was battling a small headache as well. But finally, she conquered her reluctant self and rolled out of bed. Her eyelids were heavy, and she couldn't help dragging her feet. It wasn't an affect of the headache, though, she was just plain tired.

The washroom was difficult to maneuver with the many added newsies, especially with a dog at her side. And because nearly all of them were suffering bad headaches, one had to watch what and how they said it, and not to make any noise. Rookie almost got slapped across the face by a Fire's grumpy second when Bear knocked over two tin cans that had been resting on a low ledge, causing a rather large clatter.

After that particular incident, Rookie set herself at a rushed pace to get out of the washroom. She ran a brush through her hair quickly, it was silky-smooth and shiny from the previous night's washing. Wanting to preserve her clean locks for as long as possible, instead of braiding or pulling it back in a high pony tail, she pulled it low to the top of her neck in a loose pony tail, and merely carried her hat in her hand. She motioned for Bear to follow her, and the two slipped out of the bunkroom unnoticed.

Suave was already out front, but he was not alone. Talker was with him, and they were chatting in what appeared to be a light conversation. Rookie's eyes narrowed, and she briefly considered stooping to Suave's level of jealousy and marching over there and breaking their little conversation up. But instead, she took in a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wooden railing on the small steps.

It was a good minute or so before Suave noticed her, and Rookie's stomach, which had dropped a little, flipped as he smiled and walked away from Talker as if he had never spoken to her. It brought a breath of relief to her lips and she kissed him gently on the same breath.

"Good mornin,'" he greeted as they broke away from their little kiss. His hands moved to her upper arms and he held her there gently. "I'm sorry for being such a jealous jerk last night." She smiled and slipped her arms around his waist. He returned the embrace with a gentle squeeze, but the morning heat pulled them away from each other rather quickly.

"Taday's gonna be a rough one," Racetrack complained as he walked sluggishly out of the Lodging House. "Da heat, dis headache…" His feelings seemed to be shared by most of the newsies, especially those from the Bronx who had decided to leave Manhattan and go sell on their own turf.

"S'no offence or anythin'," Fire told Jack as they spit-shook in the doorway. "But da streets are gonna be crowded, an' I need some extr-y dough in my pocket, y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I knows," Jack replied with his famous toothy smile. But as soon as Fire turned his back Jack's facial expression dropped to mirror those of the surrounding newsies, droopy-eyed and frown-y-faced.

The nuns were over-whelmed that morning, and wound up splitting servings of bread. Rookie's stomach grumbled as she took one but of her piece and tossed the rest to Bear. She rubbed her eyes and focused her mind on the previous night, her time on stage turning the corners of her mouth up.

*******

It was a slow day, especially with the extra newsies taking up the blocks. Rookie struggled to find a stable selling spot, for it was seen as a common courtesy on occasions such as this to give a spot up if a visiting newsie moved near by. "Guess I'm selling these ones back," she grumbled, looking down at the ten morning editions she still held in her hand. As she passed a shop, she looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly one o' clock, time for the afternoon edition.

She didn't know how selling in the afternoon would go, so she figured she would go back to the Lodging House and grab her sling shot. If the afternoon was as incredibly slow as the morning, she would find a place and practice her slingshot for a little while. She also would only start with fifteen papers, instead of thirty.

Rookie tried to take the fastest route back to the Lodging House. This route she had learned from Shadow, and it was made up of a near labyrinth of back alleyways. Probably not the smartest route with the Delanceys walking around, but in perhaps a stupidly brazen decision, she took her chances. Besides, she had Bear, and even though the pup was still young, her size was becoming rather threatening (she was just about the size of a half-grown male German shepherd), and the fact the pup had learned to become very protective of Rookie helped. The less brave part of Rookie's mind hoped that if she was to meet anyone, they would feign at the sight of Bear, and she would be given time to at least run in the opposite direction.

She was just about halfway to her destination when she emerged from an alley to check the street number she was on. Her eyes caught an intense glare from the sun, and she wound up walking out with her eyes half closed. As she did, her body made contact with another, and with the impact she dropped her papers. She opened her eyes fully, despite the glare, wondering what person hadn't even made a sound about her walking right into them.

"Heya Tiga," Spot said smoothly. He looked down at the ground. "Dropped yoah papes." Rookie breathed a sigh of relief, but shot a playful glare at the Brooklyn King as she kneeled and picked up her newspapers. By the time she collected all ten, she stood up to see Bear practically leaning against Spot's leg as he scratched her behind the ear.

"She really likes you, y'know," Rookie commented. He looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, an' I hoid that a dog only likes anotha person as much as its owna does," he replied, a tomcat smile place upon his face. Rookie rolled her eyes and whistled to Bear, starting her walk across the street into her next alleyway.

"Headin' backta the Lodgin' House?" she heard Spot ask from behind her.

"Yeah," she replied, only glancing back at him.

In under two seconds Spot had moved to her side. "Want some company? Someone needs ta make shoah ya don't go knockin' inta inn-ah-cent pedestr-y-ans."

"There is nothing inn-ah-cent about you, Spot," Rookie replied, mildly mocking his accent.

"Ouch, Tiga, that hoit." Rookie looked over to see Spot with his hand on his chest. "Dat hoit me right heah, right in me chest." She laughed out loud at this and told him "Good." He glared at her and gently shoved her with his shoulder.

"Oh so you want to play that game, huh?" Rookie challenged, giving him a little shove back. He smiled and his look changed to a playful challenge, his eyes sparkling. He was up to something, and Rookie waited. It was like that for a moment before she took her chance to make the first move. While she walked next to him she took her foot and gently tapped him right behind the knee, causing his leg to buckle.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he righted himself, and in surprise Rookie gave a little yell and set off at a run. Bear barked several times in the excitement, running a little ahead of Rookie.

The three ran around the alleys for a little bit (all the while Rookie attempting to get to the Lodging House), before finally Spot took one last lunge at Rookie and got her. The two tumbled to the ground with a loud _thud!_ and wound up with Rookie nearly laying on top of Spot. Bear, extremely excited by the tussle, barked and jumped around them, tail wagging wildly. But Rookie could hardly hear her. She and Spot were both panting and beginning to sweat in the heat. The two locked eyes, smiling at each other. Spot moved his hand to the back of Rookie's upper arm, and when Rookie's chest tightened, she mentally declared their little game over before Spot got any unwelcome ideas.

"Jerk," she called him, all though her tone dripped with humor and she smiled through the word. She gently slapped him on the cheek and rolled off of him. The two stood up, still breathing heavily. Rookie and copied Spot's example and fanned her face with her hat. As the two made their way out of the alley, Spot gave her a little shove with his elbow, and Rookie only chuckled.

How they could be like this, Rookie had no idea. How they could go through so much and come out of it acting like best friends that had known each other for years and never fought baffled Rookie, and made her slightly uncomfortable. So she didn't say anything as she and Spot emerged out of the alley, in front of the Lodging House. And because she didn't say anything, neither did he.

It was in that same awkward silence that the two walked into the Lodging House, waved hello to Kloppman, and began their ascent up the stairs. Even their steps were practically silent. They walked shoulder to shoulder, but did not look at each other, did not utter a word, just kept walking. But when they reached the landing, Rookie wound up leading the two as they moved into the hallway to the bunkroom. The door was open, so she took a step in. But what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Stopped her heart, stopped her breathing, stopped any brain function except her sense of sight.

There, on one of the last bottom bunks, was Suave and Talker. Talker lay on top of Suave, and the two were locked in a passionate kiss. Suave's hands were all over Talker, and Talker's hands seemed glued to Suave's shoulders. Both were fully clothed, but it wouldn't have made a difference if they weren't. Rookie felt Spot's presence behind her, and just before he could say anything she turned and pushed him out of the doorway, hand clasped over his mouth. She put a finger to her lips and told him to be quiet and then motioned for him to walk back down the stairs.

As they moved silently away from the room, Rookie slowly began to break down. Her chest started heaving, and she could feel the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. But she kept her chin up, and no matter how many time the image of Talker and Suave replayed itself in her mind, she tried to convince herself that she had not truly seen what she had. Suave wouldn't do that to her. Suave _couldn't _do that to her.

Spot, on the other hand, was practically seething by the time they made it outside. His fists were clenched and his shoulders rounded. His eyes were sharp as he turned to Rookie. "I should murda him! Teach da bummah a lesson he'll nevah foahget!" he practically snarled, and Rookie pushed him away and told him no.

"What doya mean, no?" Spot persisted. "Yous saw what he was doin' up there wit…wit _Tawka._" Rookie shook her head.

"No, we must have saw the wrong part of it," she protested. "We didn't see anything. Talker…Talker probably started it. Who knows? We could go up there right now and he's probably pushed her away by now." She shook her head, running her fingers through her pony tail. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

"Do ya really believe dat, Rook?" Spot asked, incredulous. "Do ya really bah-lieve thatcha gonna go back up in dat bunkroom and see Suave givin' Tawka a good tawkin-to?" Rookie stood her ground by just nodding, almost afraid to speak again. The rage that Spot was in, she had only ever seen him in once, and it was when he was protecting her after the midnight fight between Manhattan and Brooklyn.

"You dasoive so much bettah," his tone softened and he moved a step closer to her. She shook her head at an almost frantic speed and stepped back away from him. His eyes became sharp and his lips pursed together into a thin line.

"And who is that, Spot?" she questioned him tightly.

"Rookie-" he began, but she shook her head. "Rookie! What da hell are ya doin? Are ya just gonna sit around an' pra-tend nothin happened?"

"Leave," Rookie spat, tears welling in her eyes so much that her vision was blurred, and she could only make out his figure and his clothes. His face became invisible to her.

"What?"

"_Get out of my sight!"_ she exclaimed. Because of the tears, Rookie couldn't tell Spot's facial expression as he turned and walked away. She began shaking in her spot as she did, and it took effort to begin walking in the opposite direction and into the alleyway. She counted her steps in, her hand on the wall, fingers brushing the hard brick. She needed to keep her mind off…but she couldn't.

At one hundred and three steps into the alleyway Rookie leaned against the wall and slid slowly down. The image kept replaying in her head, enlarging the picture, again and again. The words she said to Spot, the words of utter denial, the words she sent him away with. She messed up bad.

But what did she do to deserve this? What did she do to deserve what Suave was doing to her? She had been nothing but faithful in all ways to him, never even looking at another man in a romantic perspective. And yet there he was with Talker, Rookie completely forgotten in his mind.

Something sparked in Rookie that made her clench her fist and raise her head. _Talker._ That was the look she gave Rookie at the gathering. How long had this been going on? Rookie nearly choked on the thought. But the spark kept building until something inside her resembled defiance. She would show Talker. It would be the biggest challenge that she had ever undertaken, but she would show the Queen of Queens.

Through the pain, Rookie fought back. She would not let Talker win this, not if it killed her. She would make sure that Suave knew that it was Rookie whom he wanted, not Talker. She would prove to Suave that it was she that deserved his love and affection. She would prove to Spot that Suave did deserve her, that she was strong.

But what if it didn't work? What if Suave still chose Talker? What if this scheme failed? Then what would happen? She didn't know what to think. She called Bear over and wrapped her arms around the pup's furry neck. Despite the heat, she buried her face in the fur and sobbed. Bear wriggled out of her grasp, uncomfortable from the temperature, and instead licked at her cheeks, wagging her tail gently.

Rookie leaned back against the brick wall and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rested her forehead on her knees and let the tears come, heaving and sobbing. The picture of Suave and Talker flashed into her head over and over again. The more the picture flashed, the more of a reality the whole situation became. The more real the situation became, the more Rookie cried.

She couldn't do this…she couldn't bear this pain and the weight that now lay on her shoulders. She was going to confront Suave, she had to. She couldn't win this fight. She bit her lip and tasted the salty flavor of her tears, still flowing fast down her cheeks. She was going to confront him, but not now. She would not let him see her like this. She couldn't let him know how badly it affected her. She couldn't let Talker know she had won.

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**Author's Note****:**

**So I REALLY, REALLY hope that this chapter makes up for me making you guys wait just about two months for it to come out! As I mentioned in my last chapter, my muse for this fic has grown very sporadic, but I definitely have a lot of it back, so -hopefully- chapter thirty (which I can't believe I'm really writing!) will be out much sooner!**

**A huge thank you again to whoever nominated me for the New York Newsies Awards! Just being nominated is an amazing honor that I never would have expected nor something I had ever aspired to, so thank you so much whoever did nominate me!**

**And another big thank you to all of my reviewers, I love you guys so much, and I always really enjoy reading your thoughts and suggestions. So, thank you to **Adrigirl19**,** elleestJenn**,** EmeraldGreyClouds**, **scratch conlon**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** Random Riter**,** Monoke Lynn**, and **Myst S. **for your wonderful reviews.**

**Inspiration for this chapter and the title is "White Horse" by Taylor Swift.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and Happy New Year, and Happy Valentine's Day!**

**xFlipperx**


	30. Love is a Battle

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_  
Dislcaimer: I don't own Newsies._

**Chapter Thirty(!): Love is a Battle**

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"Rookie? Christ, Rookie what happened?"

Rookie looked up to see Suave jogging toward her. At first, she was excited he had come for her, but as he kneeled beside her, a slight breeze brought the scent of Talker's potent perfume to Rookie's nostrils and she cringed and then dug her head into her knees, emitting a sob.

Now that he was in front of her, Rookie couldn't tell him. She felt his arms envelope her, and despite the smell of Talker's perfume, she practically melted into them. She needed his arms, she needed support. He couldn't have really done what she had seen him do, and then come and be the Suave she knew and needed. It was impossible, so it must not have been true.

"Your clothes are dirty," Suave commented. "What happened to you? Did you get into a fight? Are you hurt?" Rookie shook her head in her knees, but leaned into Suave's chest.

"I was with Spot and…." the rest of her words were muffled by her knees.

"Spot?!" Suave exclaimed angrily, holding her tighter. "What did he do to you? He did somethin', and I'll kill him!" What Suave didn't know is with each word, he was slowly killing Rookie, twisting her mind. He was so kind to her, so vehement about protecting her from big, bad, Spot Conlon, when not two minutes ago he was in the arms of another. Who was he? Was what Rookie saw real? _What_ was real anymore?

"No, he didn't, we were joking around and I tripped and fell," Rookie said, defending Spot as she looked up. She didn't want to tell him the whole story, for that would just lead to suspicious timing, and she didn't want to give Suave any inclination that she had seen or been around when he and Talker had been otherwise preoccupied. She never wanted him to know. She just wanted him, she wanted him to want her and no one else.

"Then what happened?" Suave asked, searching her eyes, as if the answer would be written within the pupils.

"It's just, I was just thinking about my uncle and death," Rookie replied, lying feebly. She hoped that her emotional state would cover her bad fibbing skills. It seemed to work instantly, at the mention of 'uncle', Suave's face fell. Rookie felt only slight relief that her lie worked as Suave brought her into another embrace. He let go, and then stood up, taking Rookie's hand and pulling her up beside him.

He tugged a little on her arm while saying "Come on, let's go back to the Lodging House." She hesitated, but not wanting to seem to have an obvious problem about following him, gave in and walked slowly behind him. Every few steps he would glance back and give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Rookie was glad that when they arrived at the Lodging House, it was empty. Talker had left, leaving only the strong smell of her perfume behind. Rookie hated that smell, but was glad it was all she left, because if Rookie had seen the Queen of Queens, she might have attacked her on the spot. Rookie hoped that her emotions would calm down by the evening when the rest of the Manhattan newsies and their guests returned to the bunkroom.

Suave led her over to her bunk and sat her down. She avoided his eye until his hand went to her cheek. "Hey," he said gently. "It's gonna be fine. Everythin's gonna be fine." But was it? Rookie couldn't help but viewing those words in a guarded fashion. Would everything be all right? Would she be able to bring all of Suave's love back to her, and only her? Or would Talker win and take him away?

Rookie had to admit though, sitting there and talking to Suave about a topic that was completely irrelevant to the cause of her pain was nice, and easy. Just listening to him talk her down about her uncle and death relaxed her, and brought her into a calmer state of mind. She finally learned and fully respected why the name "Suave" had been chosen for him. So much anger had boiled in Rookie's stomach before he had found her, and now it was cooling off and her thoughts were practically turning optimistic.

"Suave is a good name for you," she even uttered to him, causing him to smirk and place a little kiss on her lips, a kiss that she did not return willingly. _And Rookie is a good name for me,_ she thought to herself through the kiss. _I feel so young, so stupid, so naive to let all of this happen to me. I'm not just a rookie at being a newsie, I'm a rookie at this type of life, this stage of life_.

Suave eventually left her with Bear to go out selling, but promised to return with dinner for the both of them. "Yeah," Rookie murmured as she watched him leave. "Promises, promises. You promised you would never hurt me."

******

As the afternoon waned on, newsies started trickling back to the Lodging House. Rookie had remained in her bed, tossing and turning in the heat. As they came and inquired as to why she was back at the Lodging House at such an early hour, she claimed the heat had made her ill and had returned to take a nap, but the nap ran late. This was considered an acceptable answer, and Rookie narrowly escaped further questioning.

Her mind was turmoil. She could feel her heart skipping beats as she thought about what Suave was doing out there alone. Was he really out selling? Or was he with Talker, locked in an embrace similar to the one Rookie had witnessed early this afternoon? Her stomach growled loudly, interrupting her thoughts. The hunger pangs that ran through her only unsettled her mind further. Bear whined in her own hunger and Rookie regretted snapping at her to be quiet. Everything seemed so loud, so magnified, it rattled her brain and made her extremely sensitive and extremely irritable.

Rookie counted herself lucky to have one of the last bunks, one that was far in the corner. There, she could be left alone to her thoughts once the others migrated together toward the front to engage in card games or stories from the day's work. She would zone in and out of their conversations, trying to lose herself in the problems of others instead of the problems that presented themselves to her personally.

She hated this, she hated Suave. No, that was a lie. She loved Suave, she hated what he did to her with such ease. She hated Talker. Rookie prayed with all her might that God would give her the strength to resist the temptation of attacking the Queen of Queens when Rookie saw her. _Give me strength_, she silently thought. _To get through it all._

When Suave finally returned bearing three sandwiches, one for himself, Rookie, and Bear, Rookie was only slightly relieved. It pleased her that he had kept his promise and brought her dinner, and even exceeded his promise and bought food for Bear as well, but she was still unsettled. In her mind she tossed around ideas on how to turn Suave's attention away from Talker and back to her. She kissed him deeply when he sat down on her bed, earning a surprised (yet satisfied), raised-eyebrow look from him as they pulled away.

"Would you like to take that upstairs?" Suave whispered, his and Rookie's noses practically touching. Her mind began racing, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flash of red hair. _Talker_, she thought to herself, and then she nodded at Suave. He smirked and took her hand. They left the sandwiches under Rookie's pillow, much to the protest of Rookie's growling stomach. Bear, having already devoured her sandwich, followed the two.

As they passed Talker, Rookie shot her meanest glare, hoping it portrayed the words: '_I know what you did this afternoon'._ She held Suave's hand tighter, but he seemed to be oblivious to the exchange all together.

As the two walked up to the roof, Rookie didn't know what she was thinking. Of course she loved Suave, and it wasn't like they were going to have sex, but she had her doubts. Was this really what their relationship had come to, the pure physical aspect? The fact that she couldn't just sit and talk to him and win him the way she had in South Carolina set her stomach rolling.

_Maybe this is just the way to win him back,_ she thought to herself as they climbed the fire escape. _Maybe after I win him back, it'll all be back to normal. _She let out a silent sigh and shook her head, glad she was trailing behind Suave where he couldn't see her, though her hand was still clasped in his.

When they got to the roof, Rookie barely had time to tell Bear to "Lay down and stay," before Suave turned around and pulled her close. "We haven't done this in a while," he murmured as he bent his head down to kiss her neck.

Rookie smiled and nodded, but the smell of Talker's perfume still hung around him, and it made her want to choke. She turned her head and leaned it into his hair to escape the smell, and Suave took the opportunity to travel further up her neck, just under her ear. Rookie couldn't help wriggle and giggle at the way it felt, he had always known exactly which point to go to. Her hands moved to his sides as he began moving her backward slowly.

"Remember that time in the carriage?" he murmured as he moved to her jaw line. Rookie nodded, and got another whiff of Talker's perfume. She whimpered at the smell, but Suave mistook it for a sound of pleasure and pulled Rookie in tighter, lips moving to hers.

Despite the heat of the moment, Rookie felt the loss of spark to the kisses and touches. Of course there was the lust that made it feel good, but it didn't feel right. How could something go so wrong without her noticing it? Perhaps the business of newsie-ying had dulled her senses slightly, made her oblivious to obvious signs. But even while she thought of possibilities, dwelling on the loss of the spark between them, she continued playing Suave's game. She wanted to win him back, she needed him. He was like her own private boulder: something that was always there, always constant. He offered support and confidence and stability in a completely unstable world. She needed him.

His hands had moved from her sides to her hips, and Rookie's back hit the stone of the smoke stack. "Sorry," Suave murmured through the kiss, pulling himself even closer to Rookie, which she didn't believe to be possible. But she shook her head and kissed him back, letting him know that her back and ribs no longer bothered her, though she was a little sore from the tumble she took with Spot earlier that day.

Spot. What would he think if he saw her like this?

_Why do I care what he thinks?_ Rookie thought in an attempt to clear her head as one of Suave's hands moved up her side to cup her breast. She leaned into him and moved her lips to his neck and began moving slowly upward. _I'm proving him wrong. Suave does want me, this proves it. _But no matter what she told herself, and no matter what new compromising position she and Suave moved into, she couldn't get Spot's angry words out of her mind.

Why did he matter so much? _**Because he's your friend,**_ the more logical side, the side that was telling her being on the roof in the first place was a stupid idea, told her. _**And his opinion should matter to you. If it doesn't, you're not a very good friend.**_ This reasoning hit her hard. Her chest tightened, and her head went back to swimming in the thick black mush that was her present state of mind.

"Suave," she murmured gently through their present lip-lock.

"Mmm?" he murmured on his next breath.

"We should…we should stop."

"Why?" Rookie's mind raced for a suitable answer. When she didn't reply right away, Suave let out a low chuckle and moved his hands back to her hips and physically lifted her up, his lips never leaving his and placing her against the wall. He pinned himself up to her, using mostly the leverage of his own body to keep her against the wall. Rookie's heart was racing madly, and her thoughts were slowly drowning. Why did Suave have to be so…so…suave?! The logical side of her brain told her to push him away, let her feet hit the floor, but the teenage side of her brain told her to forget logic, forget Spot and forget Talker and stay on the roof.

_**I am going to win this,**_ the logical side of her brain declared defiantly against the teenage side.

"B…because th..the others," Rookie finally murmured, stuttering while trying to get a word out edgewise as Suave kept bombarding her with kisses. "They'll wonder….wonder where we are."

"They know exactly where we are…"

"A…and that doesn't…doesn't…damnit Suave!" Finally the logical side of her brain took over and she regained enough composure in her own skin to pull away from his kisses and push his body away. Taken by surprise, he tripped backwards and she dropped the few inches he had held her up.

"What was that for?" he exclaimed.

"You don't care that they all know?" Rookie questioned, a bit incredulously. Suave shook his head with a flustered: "Do you?"

"Yes, yes I do," Rookie replied with a nod, though she was lying just a bit. She only wanted one newsie to know where and what they were doing. Talker. But she did not want the rest of the newsies, especially those visiting, knowing about the purpose of their rendezvous to the rooftop.

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Suave was no longer flustered. He moved to her side and pushed hair out of her face. The movement caused an air flow to push what remained of Talker's perfume to rush over Rookie and the image of earlier that day flashed in her mind and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry," she began, choking on the words as Talker's perfume remained in her nostrils. "It's just…I know the Manhattan newsies know, but I'm not so sure about the other ones." He returned the embrace and kissed the top of her head.

"Oh Rookie," he murmured. "All right, let's go back down and get to those sandwiches." Rookie smiled up at him and gave him a gentle squeeze. He returned it, and then the two pulled from their embrace. Rookie called Bear, and the three began their descent to the bunkroom, Suave and Rookie hand in hand. On the way down, using her free hand, Rookie straightened her hair and fixed her cap on her head so it was straight, and flattened Suave's ruffled hair as well. She also straightened out her shirt and re-rolled her cuffs. If it was obvious what she and Suave were doing up there, she didn't want to paint it on her forehead as well.

When they got to the landing, Suave released Rookie's hand and bowed low, motioning to the window. "Ladies first," he told her, and Rookie chuckled. This was the Suave she knew and loved, and there was absolutely no way there was any other part of him, there couldn't be. She shook her head as she stepped through the window, and then Bear hopped in, followed by Suave.

The two walked into the bunkroom, and Rookie immediately noticed Talker's eyes move to them. In some sick sense of satisfaction, Rookie smiled and pulled herself closer to Suave. But as her eyes moved passed Suave they saw Spot talking to Jack. The Brooklyn King took one glance at the couple and turned back to his conversation. As they passed, Rookie strained to eavesdrop.

"Somethin' happened in Brooklyn," Spot was telling Jack. "So I gotta leave yoah hospitality a little eoily, Cowboy. Me apologies."

"When areya leavin?" Jack replied.

"Now, me boys have already gone…" Spot's voice faded out, and Rookie's chest gave a sickening lurch. He was leaving? He couldn't be leaving, she needed to talk to him. As these thoughts rain through her head she remembered her hand in Suave's and bit her lip. How was she going to talk to him? If she just went running off to Spot, it would look mildly suspicious. Not to mention, since their last parting was not on good terms, it would be better if their conversation was private.

_Wait_, she told herself. _Just a few minutes after he leaves. Lie._ And there was her plan.

When Spot left the bunkroom, Rookie and Suave were eating their sandwiches on Rookie's bed. Rookie had made sure that Suave was sitting with his back to the door so he wouldn't see the Brooklyn King's departure. Rookie made sure she was sitting facing the door so she would know exactly when to leave.

As the minutes passed slowly, Rookie's mind turned, trying to think of a legitimate excuse to leave the bunkroom. It was a difficult task, holding a conversation, eating, and scheming simultaneously, but Rookie finally came up with a plot she believed would work.

Around five minutes after Spot had left, she put her hand in her pocket. "Damn," she murmured, catching Suave's attention.

"What is it?" he asked her.

Without looking at him, she began to speak while she moved to the corner of her bed, sticking her hand underneath and looking for her slingshot. "My marbles," she replied. "I had put marbles in my pocket this morning, but I was in a hurry to get out, so I forgot my slingshot. But I never took my marbles out of my pockets." Suave cocked his head as she pulled her arm out from under her mattress and shaking her sleeve a little, not getting the point of her confusion.

"I think I must've dropped them in the alley when you found me…well, you know, you found me," she trailed off. Now confident in her lie, she looked up at Suave. "I have to go get them while there's some sun left to find them."

"Can't it wait until the morning?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"I'll be right back…" she offered. "And the sun's still up, and I'll be not even five minutes away." Suave still looked skeptical, but she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can't see the ground." Suave sighed, but Rookie smiled and told him to look after Bear, kissed his forehead again, and left. While jogging down the stairs, she put her hand in her pocket and shook out the marbles she had taken from under her mattress and concealed in her sleeve. _Found them,_ she thought ruefully to herself, rather proud of the so-far success of her scheme.

Rookie hoped that in the falling light, Spot would take the open route to Brooklyn, and she would be able to find him along the well known, main-street path to the Bridge. Knowing the sun would not be out for much longer, she moved her pace to a moderate jog. She weaved in and out of pedestrians, workers on their way home from a long day at one occupation or another. It was about eight o'clock, and she knew that the sun would begin to race to fall behind the horizon, and she only had a minimal time to find him.

But finally, she saw his retreating figure. "Spot!" she called, and picked up her pace, her breathing heavy, her sides aching. He turned his head, and when he saw her, hesitated a little. But in under a moment he had turned back and continued walking away. _Oh no…_ Rookie thought to herself. "Spot!" she called again.

She finally reached him, and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. He turned around so fast Rookie barely registered it, but suddenly there was the length of his gold-tipped cane in between them, the opposite tip lightly touching her stomach, holding her in place. She met his eyes, and was shocked with his expression. It was cold, emotionless, and it made her bite her lip. "Spot…" she pleaded, but he just looked at her.

"What?" he asked her finally, his tone sharp.

"Can we talk? Please can we talk?" her tone was strained. She wanted to get passed this coldness, and she wanted to get passed it before the sun fell. He must have sensed some urgency, because his cane fell to his side and he motioned for her to follow him onto a side street.

The two faced each other, and Spot merely stared, which turned Rookie's stomach in one of the most unpleasant ways she had ever felt it turn. "Well, ya gonna tawk or what?" he asked her impatiently.

"Spot, what I said earlier, I-"

"You knew what you was sayin," Spot snapped.

"But I didn't! I was so caught up in everything that was happening, but Spot, you _have _to forgive me. I value your friendship above all others, we can't _not _be friends." Rookie heard the strain in her voice, and she knew that it was no longer the falling sun that caused it. Spot stared at her and moved a step closer, at which Rookie began relaxing.

"I will always foahgiveya, Rook," he told her. "When has I nevah foahgave ya?" The change in his tone almost sent Rookie back against the wall that concealed them from the outside world. It had gone from completely cold to…heated, with an almost husky edge to it. But she smiled at the acceptance of her apology.

"Oh thank goodness!" she replied in near exclamation. "Because I never should have reacted the way I had. You were only trying to help, but Spot, I don't think we actually saw _anything_!" Spot tilted his head to the side, and his expression showed confusion.

"What?" he attempted to clarify.

"You know, earlier, I don't think we actually saw anything between…" her voice trailed off. "I think, I think it was-"

"It's not about thinkin', Rookie, it's about _knowin',_" Spot replied, his voice becoming louder, sharper. He took a few steps toward her, shortening the gap between them to only one stride-length. "What we's saw…that was good ole' Suave-y boy cheatin' onya!" Rookie shook her head.

"No! It couldn't be."

"Why? Why can'tcha see what's in fronta' yoah nose?" Spot met Rookie's eyes. His eyes were dark now, hard as gray slate. "_He cheated onya, Rook!_" His voice was tight. "Why can'tcha see that? He's gotcha on freakin' strings or somethin! Are ya nothin' but his little dolly ta play wit when he's bored?" He paused. "Tell me, Rook, did he _tell_ ya it was all nothin? Did he sweah his love ta ya or somethin'? Are ya that des-pah-ret thatcha gonna stay wit that bastard? Coz he says he loves ya? Areya that mis'rahble? Wheah's the proof, Rookie, wheah?" A pause. "_Well?_"

Rookie was stunned by this outburst, and it had caused her face to flush and the back of her eyes to sting with tears. How _did_ she know that Suave didn't cheat on her? How did she know? _He loves me!_ her mind told her, but words didn't follow. So she stood there, staring at Spot, the emotions that ran through her practically shaking her where she stood. And then a thought came to her head. It was harsh, and rude, and possibly the lowest blow she could deliver, but she wasn't thinking straight. This idea was the perfect kind of awful to get Spot to back off.

"You're just jealous!" Spot stared at her. He crossed his arms across his chest, silently asking her to elaborate how he was possibly jealous. Infuriated by his nonchalance, Rookie continued. "You're just jealous because ._ Suave!_ You're jealous because I only think of you as a close friend, and yet you yearn for it to be something more. You're just a jealous little boy Spot Conlon." Rookie spat the last sentence out, now glaring hard at Spot. But her insides were shaking, her conscious furious at her words, already regretting them.

Spot just stood there for a few seconds, arms still crossed. He looked at Rookie up and down for a moment, and she became flighty. She wondered if she'd have to run from him. But something told her to stay rooted to the spot. Perhaps it was the look in the Brooklyn King's eyes, or just the knowledge that Spot would never physically hurt her. But for some reason, she stayed there. Her thoughts began racing, wondering what was going on in his head.

Five words finally emerged from his lips. "Just a friend, huh?" And then there was no space between them. Before she had time to react, he had taken her gently by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers.

Rookie was stunned. She stood there for a moment, and something changed. The way Spot kissed her, it was…different. There was something there she had never felt before, not with Suave, not with anyone. A part of her was eager to explore it, and the teenage side of her finally relaxed and began falling into the kiss, returning it. Despite the presentation, it was gentle, but earnest. In the back of her mind, Rookie wondered how long Spot had been waiting for this. Her stomach flipped and butterflies fluttered.

But in mere moments, reality came rushing back to her, hitting her like a punch right between the eyes.

Suave.

What was she doing? With _Spot_, her friend?

She pushed away from Spot and out of the kiss, shaking her head.

"Rook?" Spot asked slowly, his tone cautious.

"Spot…no…I…I can't," Rookie sputtered, her head in her a whirl, her stomach doing summersaults. "This…this is cheating."

"It ain't cheatin' if yous already been cheated on." Spot's voice was strained, and it was gaining edge, as if he sensed where the conversation was heading, and fast.

"I wasn't cheated on!" Rookie insisted, shaking her head. Why was this all happening? How could she have just _kissed_ Spot? Not only kissed, but _enjoyed_ kissing Spot. She began backing away from Spot, back toward the road. Spot took a step toward her, but she backed away faster. "St…stay away from me."

"Rook," Spot said, now he was the one practically pleading, pleading for Rookie to knock some sense into her own head. "Tiga?" Rookie, taken aback by his use of the nickname, widened her eyes.

"I…I thought you were my friend!" she exclaimed, tears beginning to blur her vision. She was practically in a déjà vu of the early afternoon's events. Spot took another step forward, but she turned away and began to pick up a jog, repeating her last exclamation.

"I thoughtya was smahta than dis!" Spot called after her, but she had already turned the corner.

As she ran, she let tears fall down her cheeks. How did her life come to this? Why did her life come to this? Love, she began to realize, was one hell of a battle. And she had thought she had finally won. How wrong she had been. But not only was she losing (_Or have I already lost?_ she thought to herself) Suave, but she believed that she had lost Spot's friendship as well.

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**Author's Note****: **

**Only took 30 chapters, huh?  
**

**Wow. I'm pretty sure that this was the quickest update I've ever done. Like, ever. Three days. Has to be a personal record or something…**

**Anyway. Thank you guys so much for your wonderful reviews of Chapter 29, and I can't believe I'm already on Chapter 30! This is such a big deal for me, so I am practically ecstatic with where this story has been able to go.**

**A huge thanks to **NCC-1701.221b.1899**,** MushSpotGoil**,** DimonahTralon**,** RandomRiter**,** NeverBeTamed**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** fanta778**,** X-Scree-Scree-X**, and** Echo Quinlan** for your absolutely wonderful reviews on Chapter 29. I know I say this every time, but I love hearing from you guys, and you and the people who favorite, and put this story on story alert are what keeps this fic alive.**

**Inspiration for this chapter and it's title come from a song my friend, Kiera, wrote. It's called "Love is a Battle" and it is very beautiful. It can be found on Youtube here: youtube. com / watch ? v = LT5 _ gLira WQ. Just take out the spaces and enjoy!**

**Until next time,**

**xFlipperx**


	31. Anybody

Only Time Will Tell

A fan fiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies._

**Chapter Thirty-One: Anybody  
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Rookie woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and hitting the top of her bunk. She clasped her own hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of the string of profanity that was her reaction to the pain. She was picking up quite the vocabulary from living with the newsies, but rarely did she share her knowledge.

Stunned, she looked around the bunkroom. The first light of the day was just peaking through the windows, so she guessed it was around five o' clock. Kloppman usually aroused the bunkroom around six, but Rookie was eager to see that she was first up. She wanted to get up and get out before everyone else so she wouldn't have to talk or be social.

It had been three days since everything had happened, and Rookie hadn't been very personable since. She spent as much time with Suave as she saw necessary not to make him believe that the rooftop had affected their relationship negatively. If anything, it had definitely given it a push in the right direction. Suave just wanted to be with Rookie since then, but Rookie knew it was only for a physical interaction. That's all there relationship had turned into over the passed three days, and it made Rookie uncomfortable. But at least she still had Suave.

She sighed heavily as she got out of bed and tip-toed into the washroom. She went through her morning routine rather quickly, washing her face and tying her hair back in a braid. She then called Bear; put her on her rope leash and tip-toed out of the bunkroom.

"Up early, theah, Rook?" Kloppman asked her as she reached the front desk area. She nodded and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Just in need of some extra money, figure I'll be there first when it opens," she replied. "If anyone asks-"

"I'll tell 'em you left early."

"Thanks…c'mon Bear." Rookie and Bear exited the Lodging House and Rookie sighed. Getting out early to start early wasn't exactly the best excuse. The distributor opened at the same singular time for everyone, so eventually, she would have to meet up with everyone. But getting some time away wouldn't be so bad for her, either.

She walked slow, meandering in an aimless pattern along the street. She kicked at stones as she came across them, in such a state of mental block that she would occasionally miss the stone and kick air. Rookie just couldn't wrap her mind around the passed few days. Everything that had happened. Talker and Suave, _her_ and Suave, _her_ and Spot! She didn't know what to do about Suave and Talker, as she was extremely conflicted. Part of her head told her to confront him, to leave him, to let him and Talker do their thing. The other part of her brain told her to win him back, keep him from Talker. This would be an easier task now that the guests had finally left the Lodging House, though Rookie had kept a close watch on Suave since the incident.

And her heart, her heart didn't know what to do. What Suave did actually hurt Rookie's chest when she thought about it. But her heart _needed_ him. He had been there when everything else had fallen apart; he had kept her sane, kept her alive, all those months. Even when he had left-

He had left before, who was to say he wasn't going to do it again?

But who was to say that he was? He was there when her life had gone straight to hell in a hand basket. He helped her, supported her through the whole ordeal with Spot.

And Spot. _Spot had kissed her!_ And what was worse _she kissed him back!_ This was perhaps the most difficult part to wrap her head around. She and Spot were only friends…she knew that he had feelings for her that were stronger than hers for him, but to kiss her? And for her to kiss back?! How could she cheat on Spot?

"_It ain't cheatin' if yous already been cheated on."_ Spot's words echoed in her mind, but Rookie shook her head. Suave couldn't have cheated on her. There _must_ be a mistake, somewhere…

How could someone who seemed so amazing, so loving, do something like that? It wasn't possible, and Rookie didn't believe it. She couldn't. Something in her refused to believe what had happened right in front of her nose. It was just…impossible, at least in her mind. What she had seen, it was wrong, she saw wrong. Spot saw wrong. It was…no.

Rookie was eager to see the cart of nuns pull up to the corner she had been waiting on. The arrival of the nuns meant the rest of the Manhattan newsies would be around soon. She dreaded their arrival; she just wanted to be alone. "Can't afford to be alone," she reminded herself under her breath as she walked up to the nun cart and received her piece of bread and a cup of water. She halved up both servings in her usual way between her and Bear, and then went on her way to the distributor.

When the rest of the newsies arrived, there were little questions, but a lot of teasing. Rookie played along, putting on fake smile and joking with those who joked with her, but ignored those who didn't engage her in conversation. She wanted as little contact with the people she knew as possible. Perfect strangers, like her customers, were fine. But she didn't want to be around the newsies, around Suave. They knew her too much.

As soon as the distributor opened up, Rookie attempted to maneuver her way to as close to the front as possible, which turned to be somewhere in the middle. Of course there were seniority rules. Jack, of course, got first in line no matter what. Crutchy, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, and Skittery filed in somewhere behind. And then after that it was a free for all.

Rookie stood next to Suave on line, silent. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him glance over at her a few times, but never looked back. When they got to the front of the line, she got her papers and started walking away without talking to him.

"Rookie!" he called her name, and she was forced to turn around and face him.

"Yeah?" she responded, hearing the monotone of her voice.

"Come here for a second." Rookie followed Suave to the edge of the distributing area and stood facing him, her back to the rest of the newsies, who were slowly trickling out of the center.

"What's wrong?" He asked her immediately, and she was sort of stunned by the blunt question.

"Nothing," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "I'm tired, that's all."

"Then why did you leave early this morning?"

"I'm tired because I'm restless. I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep, so why hang around the Lodging House when I can go for a walk?"

"Alone?"

"I had Bear with me-"

"That's not good enough, Rook, you shouldn't be alone, none of should be."

Statements like that are what confused Rookie to no ends. How could he care so much and cheat? _He couldn't have cheated,_ she thought to herself as she stared at him momentarily. _I didn't see anything wrong._

"What's really going on?" he pressed.

"I told you, nothing."

"Really, Rookie? Do you think I'm blind? These past few days, what happened?"

Rookie almost told him. At that moment, she was absolutely certain that the next sentence out of her mouth was going to be "I saw you with Talker, that's what happened". They were going to talk about it, and Rookie was going to know the truth. But something stopped her. Whatever stopped her from believing that Suave really had cheated on her stopped those words from leaving her mouth. She couldn't accuse when she wasn't positive, so she wouldn't. So she lied.

"I told you, it's my uncle," she told him. He let out a little breath, and Rookie was taken aback. Was that relief? Why would he be relieved?

"Rookie-" he began, but Rookie cut him off to continue with her lie. She had to make it believable.

"I'm starting to feel…trapped," she began, which was true, trapped within the city, within her mind. "All that's been happening, I feel so enclosed here. Sometimes, I just want to leave." Rookie was surprised by Suave's reaction. He seemed to be…excited.

"Rookie, oh Rookie…" he murmured, taking a step closer and putting his hands on his shoulders. "Whenever, wherever you want to go, we can go. If you ever feel trapped, we can leave. Your earnings, plus mine, we can leave this city. Run away, change our names, just you and me." Rookie's heart melted at his words, but her mind reeled at his willingness of the proposition of leaving. He loved the city. He left her for the city. To just leave it…

"I'll be fine," she told him, taking his hand off her shoulder and motioning for him to follow her. All the others had left the center, so they were at no risk of being overheard. "I just need time to mourn, time that I never really got after everything happened." She was lying through her teeth at this point, and she wondered if she was still believable. Suave just looked over to her and nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" he asked her. Rookie didn't know the answer to this question. This all depended on a few things. Whether he cheated on her, and whether she'd ever be able to gain's Suave's friendship. She hoped for both of them, and didn't know if she would be one hundred percent all right unless she had both of them. But she couldn't let Suave in on that.

So she plastered a tight-lipped smile on her face and nodded. "I think so," she told him. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"Remember what I said," he told her. "Anytime, anywhere you want to go." Rookie nodded, and the two kissed again, just briefly.

Right before the two went their separate ways, Suave asked her once last time if she was going to be all right. At that moment, Rookie felt the prickling sensation in the back of her eyes, but forced a smile. Confusion ran through her, and she truly didn't know if she was going to be all right. She was terrified of the thought of _not_ being all right. But none-the-less she kept her smile. "I'll be fine," she told Suave, turning her body to begin her walk down the street, while he turned up. Over her shoulder, she added, "Give me a few days, I promise, I'll be fine."

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**Author's Note****:**

**So, usually I'm not one for short chapters, but this one needed to be short to be effective, I think. This was sort-of-a-filler-sort-of-not because I tried to fit as much information about why she's in such denial in there. It's really kind of difficult, because I'm basing it off a real-life situation between my friend and her boyfriend (without the second guy, though), so I kind of had to interview her for it, and that was weird.**

**But anyway! I'm glad you guys liked last chapter, and I would like to thank all the reviewers: **X-ScreeScree-X**,** Echo Quinlan**,** ilovenewsies**,** Kelsey Gwendolyn007**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** I Spiked the Ice Cream**,** Curly-Q**,** fanta778**, and the person who left a review with a name for reviewing my last chapter! I hope I cleared up any questions you may have had from the last chapter.**

**This chapter and it's title are based off of "Anybody" by Jesse McCartney, because it shows how attatched Rookie is to both Suave and Spot, and how alone she feels, and how she can't fathom how Suave can be these two completely different people. I dunno, just a thought...  
**

**As always,  
xFlipperx**


	32. Hot N' Cold

Only Time Will Tell  
A newsies fan fiction by xFlipperx._  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies._

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Hot N' Cold**

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"_Give me a few days, I promise, I'll be fine."_

It had been two weeks since Rookie had spoken those words, and she wasn't fine. She was…coping. Selling kept her mind focused, and she took the opportunity to really throw herself into work. She was earning a few more cents a day because of it, which helped relax her knowing she would be able to pay the coming September's board for the Lodging House and still be able to feed herself and Bear.

It was now the last few days of August, and the summer heat was beginning to wane. It was a hardly noticeable change, but it was a change. Rookie didn't know if she wanted the heat to pass for cold, and couldn't decide what she would prefer to live in. It was the trivial aspects of life such as the seasons changing or the month's board that Rookie busied her mind with. She tried her hardest not to think of Suave after they went their separate ways in the morning, and not until they met again in the evening. She even harder not to think of Spot Conlon _at all_.

She couldn't lie to herself, when her thoughts did wander upon the Brooklyn King. She missed their friendship, their secret notes, and their midnight rendezvous. Spot made life in the city exciting, thrilling even. But thinking about Spot was a dreadful thing because then her mind began to wander to the kiss he had planted on her lips, and it felt as if stones had been dropped into her stomach. Such a strong part of her had wanted that kiss to continue, to follow him to Brooklyn, to be a traitor, to be hated. But she would be with Spot, someone she considered one of her closest, if not best friends.

It was an odd thing, to think of him as a 'best friend' and Rookie felt it reflected her relationship with the Manhattan Newsies. She really wasn't very close with any of them. There was Suave, of course, but he was…different. He wasn't _really_ Suave. He was, or rather, had been, Dawson. Just as she was, or had been, Brooklyn. And then there was Sweetheart, and occasionally Racetrack, of whom she could confide in. But outside those three she was mostly just held a buddy-buddy relationship with the rest of them. Joke and pal around, and of course you were loyal to your borough, but there was no real relationship beyond simply being a Manhattan newsie. But it suited the lifestyle, it was enough.

Rookie did not know what to think about Suave. She never smelled Talker's perfume on him again, even when he made a trip for Jack into Queens, so thought perhaps it was only a one time thing with the two of them. She never brought it up to him, though she made sure she was attached at his hip as soon as they met up in the evening, and made sure all attention was on her…just in case.

A good portion of her was telling herself to end it right there and then, but there was this fear in the back of her mind, in the pit of her stomach. What if things ended badly? What if the rest of the lodging house was brought into it? And more importantly…what if she didn't want to leave him? He was basically all she had. What was she without him? Sure, she had her few friends, but other than Sweetheart and Race, she didn't know if she could rely on anyone else, emotionally. She didn't know if she could learn to rely completely on herself for emotional support. The one time she was forced to, when Dawson had left to trade a life for Suave, she entered a deep depression. So as long as he was faithful to her _now_, what did one little slip-up matter?

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ She told herself angrily in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She spotted and kicked a can hard across the alleyway she was currently trekking on her way home to the Lodging House. Tonight was going to be trial enough; she did not need her thoughts in utter turmoil to add upon the stress.

Tonight, roughly three weeks after the announcement of peace amongst the four major boroughs, there was going to be a leader check-up. And since Manhattan was practically in the middle of all the goings-on in New York City, it was once again the chosen meeting place for the check-up. Word was spreading around that Fire was getting a little annoyed, but no leader was going to do anything only weeks after a peace was declared.

When Rookie caught up with the can, she kicked it hard again. Bear startled and barked, and Rookie quickly hushed the large dog. The bark echoed in the alley, and Rookie shook her head and moved at a quicker pace to make it to the main road. But every time she came upon that can, she would kick it. Each time, she would pretend it was someone's head. One time it was Talker's, another time it was Suave's, another time it was her mother, another time it was the face of Walter Smith, the man ultimately held responsible for her Uncle's death. All people who had done her harm during her life. It had turned to Spot's head just before she walked out onto the main road, so to prevent drawing attention to herself, didn't kick it.

She turned out onto the main road, walked two blocks and then turned down the road to the Lodging House. Rookie was surprised to see the front steps empty, it was usually where she and Suave met up after work, and since Suave worked closer to the Lodging House, he was usually there before she was. In a way, she was almost relieved; because she was in such a stressful state she wasn't sure she wanted to see her boyfriend at the moment. So instead of waiting on the steps like she might have normally done, she walked right into the Lodging House and headed right up to the bunkroom.

Everything was silent upstairs. Rookie walked over to Sweetheart, who was sitting up in her bed reading a book and asked what had happened. "The other leaders came earlier than they were supposed to," Sweetheart replied. "So the meeting's underway now in the sick room."

"Oh," Rookie replied with a nod.

"Where's Suave?" she asked him.

"Still selling, I guess," Rookie said with a shrug. "If he comes in, tell him I'm up on the roof, okay?" Sweetheart asked Rookie if she was all right, and Rookie just nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Will you tell him?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Thanks, Sweet."

"Anytime, Rook…you sure you're all right?"

"Not really…" Rookie admitted, and then mentally kicked herself in the butt for letting that slip.

"Wanna talk?"

Rookie shook her head. "I'll be on the roof." Sweetheart nodded.

"I'll be here, if you need me," she said quietly as Rookie walked away, and Rookie couldn't help but smile. Just knowing she had a friend like Sweetheart (who had _really _earned her name, as far as Rookie was concerned) was comforting during her current mental state.

Rookie climbed the stairs to the roof, Bear walking slowly behind her. The sun was very low in the sky, half of it just above the city buildings. Rookie sighed and walked over to the edge and sat down behind the guard, looking over the city. She lay her chin down on her folded arms out in from of her and just silently observed the city.

The sun had set below the skyline, but still illuminated the city, by the time Rookie heard someone walking up the stairs. She smiled at the thought of it being Suave, and turned her head over her shoulder to watch him ascend the stairs.

It wasn't Suave.

Spot Conlon looked just as surprised as she felt when he made it to the top step of the fire escape and climbed onto the roof. His eyes fell upon Rookie and the two just looked at each other. Without saying a word, he went to turn around, but Rookie stopped him. "Hey!" she half-yelled, causing him only to stop and turn his head slightly in her direction.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked him, standing up but never taking her eyes off the Brooklyn King. "Please?" Spot turned around fully and crossed his arms across his chest, holding his cane in his right hand.

"What?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry, for everything that's happened, and I mean _everything_," she told him. "I feel like I'm always apologizing to you, and maybe I am, but that goes to show how rotten a friend I am." Spot looked at her and shook his head.

"Yoah foahgiven…again," he replied. "An' it's coz you's a good friend dat I keep foahgiven ya, not coz yoah a rotten one…" His voice trailed off. It was still tight, and his eyes stayed trained on her. They were not cold or guarded, but observant, curious. "An' I guess I owe ya an' apology too…foah everythin'." He didn't say anything else, but Rookie nodded and smiled, thanking him.

"You're forgiven," she told him, breaking the eye contact and looking down at the ground. She cleared her throat a little and walked over to where Spot was. She swallowed and then rolled her shoulders back, picked her chin up and stuck out her hand in confidence. "Friends?" Spot cracked a small smile and clasped her hand in his own.

"Friends," he replied.

They released each others hands and stood there momentarily in silence before Spot spoke up. "Did you tell him?" Rookie didn't need clarification on what he meant. Spot wanted to know if Suave knew that Rookie knew about him and Talker. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head.

"But before you say anything-" she said quickly, putting her hand up. "Can I ask you, as a _friend_, to not argue with me on that decision?"

"Rookie-"

"Please, Spot? I need your support on this. I have my reasons why I didn't tell him, and you have to trust me and my judgment." There was another silence between them for a few moments, and then Spot spoke.

"I ain't gonna support that decision," he told her flat-out. "But I ain't gonna go stickin' my nose wheah it don't belong…even though 'as a _friend_' I t'ink I should be showin' that bummah wheah his nose belongs…" Spot trailed off as Rookie narrowed her eyes at him. But she could not pull off the anger she attempted to portray; in fact, she felt tears coming to the back of her eyes.

Tears. Why the hell was she feeling the urge to cry? Was she so severely stressed out that the slightest surge of emotion was getting to her? Was she beginning to fall into that place of depression again?

"Oh Spot, thank you," she said, attempting to hide the glassy appearance she knew her eyes had taken by enveloping Spot in a hug.

"I still feel like I should be apologizing," she murmured into his shoulder, blinking back her tears furiously as her face was out of view from his. His chuckle was broken and he half hugged, half patted her back, obviously thrown off by the embrace.

It was then that a third set of footsteps was heard coming up the stairwell. "Rookie?" Rookie broke partly away in the realization that it was Suave, coming up to look for her. She looked up at Spot with wide eyes and she could practically see ideas running through his mind.

"Start yellin' at me," he told her, pushing her away from him.

"What?" Rookie asked.

"Just yell at me," he told her in a near-whisper. "Anythin'." She took a few steps back and nodded. It took her a few moments, but finally, she was able to blurt something out.

"Why don't you just stay away from me, Spot?" she snapped. "I'm so tired of dealing with all of the baggage that comes with being your friend!"

"Why does it suddenly matter?" Spot replied, tilting his head to the side a bit. She shrugged, but focused on hardening her expression and sharpening her tone.

"It will always matter when _she's_ in the mix…don't you dare think I forgot about January." Rookie realized that her thought of 'extra women' had come out wrong. That it was very possible that Spot could have thought she was referring to Song.

"_Not Song, not Song!" _she mouthed desperately as the Brooklyn King threw a real glare her way. He looked at her again. _"Reputation. Women"_ At those words he nodded and smirked, and smirk that held some sort of pride in it, a smirk that made Rookie roll her eyes.

"Well ya know, that's just how it-"

"Get away from her!" Spot didn't even finish his sentence, because in a moment Suave had darted up the stairwell and come to Rookie's 'rescue'. Rookie looked to him and saw something equitable to fire in his eyes as he glared at Spot, and something in her flared up. How could he look upon Spot with such hatred, and not in the mirror?

Suave literally grabbed Rookie by the upper arm and brought her closer to him, and Rookie saw Spot's eyes flash. "Don't ya ever yell at her again!" Suave warned as he held Rookie close to him. He was holding her so tightly, it was actually quite painful.

"Stay outta dis, Suave-y boy," Spot snapped. "An' let her go before she bruises…can'tcha see yoah girl is wincin'?" Suave looked at Rookie and she forced and small, tight-lipped smile. He let her go gently, but turned back to Spot. "Guess you're used ta treatin' her like that, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Rookie and Suave said at the same time. Rookie knew that Spot's words were real that time, the venom that laced them extremely poisonous.

"You hoid me, an' I know how ya treat her."

"I _love_ Rookie," Suave protested.

"You can love someone an' not treat 'em how they desoive."

"And like you treated her any better?" Suave exclaimed. Rookie watched on, incredulous. She should have stepped in at this moment, but something held her back, prevented her from intervening. "She told me what you did to her, what you said ta her, how you took her for nothin'. You have _no right_ to criticize what Rookie an' me share, and how we treat each other."

"At least I respected her anuff dat I nevah-"

"Both of you be quiet!" Rookie had to practically shout to silence the Brooklyn King. She knew what would have followed in Spot's sentence. "Suave, let's just go. Spot, I'll see you around, I guess." She whistled to Bear as she pushed Suave away, and as she forced him to walk down the stairs in front of her. And when she knew Suave couldn't see, she looked back at Spot and made eye contact. "_Tonight_," she mouthed to him. "_Right here_."

He nodded.

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**Author's Note****:**

**What a wait! I am extremely sorry I made you wait nearly two whole months for this chapter to be published! I've had so much going on lately, and it's just seeming to pile up and pile up and…well you get my drift. ANYWAY. I hope you enjoyed!**

**A HUGE thanks to the reviewers of last chapter: **Adrigirl19**,** ilovenewsies**,** RandomRiter**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** BoredHpFan**,** fanta778**,** Dimonah Tralon**,** X-Scree Scree-X**, **Tatsiana**,** elleestJenn**,** scratch conclon**,** misato**,** Myst. S.**,** **and** StanziWood**. Without you guys, I would be nothing. I would also like to thank all those who added me to your Story Alert/Author Alert/Favorite Story/Favorite Author, and of course, those who silently read my fic! I really hope you guys are enjoying so far.**

**Title = Hot N' Cold by Katy Perry. Not necessarily for the lyrics, but because of the up, down, upside down, and sideways relationship Rookie and Spot have.**

**Chapter 33 will be up sooner than this chapter was.**

**xFlipperx**


	33. Chemicals React

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies fan fiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Plot and characters._

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Chemicals React**

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It was silent in the Lodging House bunkroom, except for the hardly audible _pat pat_ of Rookie moving barefoot across the floor, heavy shoes held in her right hand instead of worn on her feet to prevent making noise and causing a stir.

She had watched Spot say he was returning to Brooklyn, walk out the bunkroom door, but at the last second turn the wrong way in the hallway, toward the window. He must have been out there for an hour by now, and Rookie's felt so bad her stomach seemed to have rocks in it. But she pushed those feelings out of her head. She pushed everything out of her head except for the focus to not wake anyone else up.

She climbed the fire escape slowly, making as little noise as possible, although it was hard to hide a sniffle here or there. Her eyes were still welling up with tears for no apparent reason, and Rookie tried to convince herself that it was either because her stress level was through the roof, her 'time of the month' was coming within the next few days, or possibly a combination of the two. It wasn't working.

When she reached the rooftop, she couldn't see anyone, and her stomach flipped. She dropped her shoes to the ground and slipped them into her feet, done with being quiet. What if Spot had grown tired of waiting? What if he had truly left for Brooklyn? Rookie's eyes, which had adjusted to the low light on the climb up, and were aided by a sky full of stars, though the fact it was a new moon made it a little difficult. Her eyes caught a slumped figure by the stairwell exit, partially hidden by the shadows.

"Spot?" she called. No reply. Figuring it could be no one else, she walked over to the figure and sure enough, there was Spot. He was leaned up against the old door, head nodded, eyes closed. Asleep. Rookie's chest tightened and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. But she was here for a reason, and she was determined. So she nudged Spot's foot with her own, afraid that if she went to poke or nudge him, instinct would tell him to attack. She said his name softly. "It's Rookie."

His head lifted and his eyes narrowed at her. "Took ya long anuff, Tige," he grumbled, but made Rookie smile to hear him return to his private nickname for her. "What do ya want?"

"Well excuse me for not wanting to get caught," Rookie snapped in reply, her tone partially amused. "Are you always this cheerful when you're deprived of sleep?"

"When I'm what?"

"Dep- when you don't get enough sleep?"

"Whateva. If ya wanna yell at me foah befoah-"

"You are _so_ lucky you didn't finish your sentence, you'd be so sorry if you had…" she cut him off again, as she had done earlier.

"Lucky is I?" Spot said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes still narrowed. Rookie could hear just the tiniest pinch of humor in his voice, but a good ninety percent was challenging her to her statement. "Sorry I woulda been? Why?"

"You would be, believe me," Rookie replied, and then bit her lip and shook her head, feeling a tear that had stuck to her cheek from when she had reached the roof flew off. "Let's not talk about it."

"Then if we's ain't gonna tawk 'bout that, why am I still heah?" Spot questioned.

"You told me you would teach me how to fight, right?" Spot nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow, his eyes softening. "Well, it's a perfect night for it."

"Tah-night's also poifect foah sleepin'…why doya wanna loin tah-night?"

"I need something to focus on…" Rookie replied trailing off. He stared at for a few seconds, and then nodded. Rookie didn't like that he was staring at her for so long. It made her feel like he was looking right through her, and she didn't want him to see her emotions, to see her sporadic strain of tears that had suddenly sprung up earlier.

"Okay."

"All right, well we can't do it here, we'll wake the rest of the guys downstairs," Rookie told him, taking initiative. "So let's go find a place we can." She turned and went to walk toward the fire escape, but only made it about three steps before she heard Spot speak up.

"Tiga, has you been cryin'?" he asked her, and Rookie shook her head, replying with a quick "No," as she kept her pace to the fire escape.

_Damn it,_ she thought to herself. _He knows…he has to know._

Spot grabbed her upper arm gently and with the lightest tug, spun her to face him. "Have you been cryin'?" he asked her again, forcing an eye contact that Rookie simply couldn't advert her eyes from.

"No," she replied in a quick, short tone, surprise his piercing blue eyes hadn't brought the truth from her.

"Yoah sucha lia'."

"Shut up."

Spot released her and gave her a gentle nudge to start down the fire escape. She removed her shoes again and started off, listening to the soft pings and pangs Spot's shoes made as they came down on the metal. Her heart was racing with every step, it only took a little noise to wake someone up, and only one incident of seeing Rookie and Spot together in the middle of the night to ruin everything.

When they reached the bottom of the fire escape and hopped off the ladder and down to the ground, Rookie took a few steady breaths of relief. Spot motioned for him to follow her, and she asked where they were going. "Where doya think?" Rookie didn't reply. To that question, two answers came to her mind. Either they were going to Central Park, which was an all right idea as long as they weren't near the apartment complex areas, or they were going to the Brooklyn Bridge.

It became apparent to which destination they were headed to pretty quickly, and the road to the Brooklyn Bridge didn't take very long between the two of them. They started talking about 'old times', and it was like they were practically running there.

"They all thought I was crazy," Spot told Rookie, referring to the first time she had shown up at Tibby's. "When I told 'em I invited a richie to lunch."

"That was disaster," Rookie replied. "Not meeting the newsies, I think that was one of the best moments of my life, finally sitting down and talking with people who didn't care where you were from, what your last name was…but then Dimitri, Cal's servant or business partner or whatever…" she trailed off.

"That man was fun to fuck around wit, gotta admit," Spot replied with a laugh. "Yous call it a disasta, I call it…goin' out wit a bang." Rookie laughed at that and smiled.

"And that was the beginning of it all," she said with a smile. "It was as if my fate to become a newsie was sealed on that day." Spot smiled and shook his head. "What?"

"Nothin…you'd get pissed if I said it," he replied. Rookie raised an eyebrow.

"Try me."

"Well, it ain't that yoah a bad newsie or nothin', Tiga, or that ya don't belong wit us…" he trailed off and Rookie's eyes narrowed slightly, watching his every move. She didn't have to say anything, he just continued. "Butcha looked good in dresses." Rookie supposed the comment might have offended most, or even caused her to remind him that they were just friends, but instead butterflies fluttered around her stomach and she laughed.

"Thanks, Spot," she said. "But as much as it hides my figure, and us girls know how terrible that is for you men, I'd much rather be in these clothes. Those dresses…no, those corsets were torture. They could kill a person, I swear."

Spot looked over at her, then looked back in front of him, smirking. It took her a few moments before she wound up laughing again, realizing what Spot's smirk had meant. The first time they had met, he had to cut her loose of hers or she would have very well fainted. He knew the dangers of the contraptions, even if she was his only true experience with it first-hand.

"I thanked you for that night, right?" she asked him, to which he nodded. "Good. And I'll do it again. Thank you. If I had…well…I can't really say anything because I wouldn't be here, but I guess there would just be so much I would have missed out on. So much life. So thank you, Spot, again."

"Anytime, Tiga." Rookie smiled and gave him a gentle nudge with her shoulder.

When they reached the bridge, Spot said they would go to the peak because that's where the Bulls patrolled the least at night, and that way there would be just about an equal walk home for them both. They reminisced on their early time spent together as they ascended to the peak, and kept their conversation light annunciated so that any passing bulls wouldn't stop them to check if they were sober and no questions would be raised.

As soon as they reached the peak of the bridge, however, it became all about the business of fighting, which Rookie just happened to find entertaining. Spot started off by saying that he was just going to attack her, gauge her reaction, and then explain what she needed to work on and show her new and different moves and styles. Of course, this was all said in Spot language in about half the time.

Spot jumped at her and Rookie went for his stomach. He grabbed her wrist but she was able to twist out of it and then land an awkwardly placed punch on his shoulder. He took his cane out (which Rookie didn't even realize he had on him) and grinned mischievously. He swung at her and she grabbed the cane, attempting to take it from him throw him off balance. He tugged on the cane and successfully threw _her_ off balance and then took his leg and tucked it behind her knee, forcing her to fall forward. As she did, she threw another punch at his stomach. He skillfully dodged her punch, grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. He grabbed her other arm and pinned her in front of him.

"Okay, Tiga, we got a lotta woik ta-do," he told her, releasing her.

The next few minutes were spent discussing strategy. Always watch your opponents' feet and movements. If you could see where his or her feet were going, there was a good chance you would be able to guess where their next attack was heading. He showed her a few new moves; skillful dodging, a mean left hook, and then how to fake-out that left-hook to a right-jab. Rookie was completely engulfed in this world of fighting, and enjoying every single second of it.

She didn't know why, but she got some sort of enjoyment out of fighting. It was a mixture of letting out all of your excess energy and then focusing it to one specific target, and then just being enveloped in a world that was just you and your opponent. It was a thrill that sent her heart racing and her head pounding, but in the best possible way. It also focused her and made her forget everything that was going on outside the lesson. She had to put all her energy into sparring with Spot and learning new moves and techniques. There was no room for thought process beyond that.

After the next technique lesson ended, it was back to the fun part: sparring. This was a much more heated spar, because Rookie was getting the hang of things quickly. During the match she was even able to land a few on Spot, which made her extremely proud, even though she got hit many more times than she landed one. Spot lunged at her, but she had been watching him carefully and caught it just as he moved. The world didn't slow down this time, but Rookie knew what to do. She took a step to the side, and jumped onto his back, throwing her weight to side. She felt resistance at first, but then a sudden weightlessness and the two toppled to the ground. They landed, rolled, and Rookie wound up laying on top of Spot, looking down at him.

"You let me take you down!" she accused, and slapped him gently on the cheek before jumping back up and getting ready to continue the spar. Spot followed suit, quickly getting to his feet. A little angry and a teeny bit frustrated, Rookie led a rushed attack and went in for a fake out. She was able to land in a punch, and, happy with that move, decided to use it again. But this time, Spot expected it and grabbed both her wrists and pulled her close to his body.

"Tiga, Tiga. Ya like ta repeat moves an' ya let yoah emotions get the best a' ya," he told her. "Ya can't do that, the poison yoah fightin's gonna get smaht and ya gonna get hoit. Ya like ta tackle, that's good, but only if yoah gonna win like that or give yoahself some extra time ta run." Rookie nodded, mumbling the instructions over to herself to make them stick. It was odd, but she finally took notice that Spot was still holding her tightly by the wrists.

She looked up into his eyes and it was like an electric shock ran through her. She wasn't stupid or ignorant. There was chemistry between them, a spark, which was obvious. There always had been something there, attracting them to each other. But Rookie wanted to keep them as friends, and forget the electricity. They couldn't act on it. It was when they acted on it that things went bad.

"Spot, don't," Rookie warned in a low tone, trying to move away, but Spot's grip was too strong. "Spot, you have to - Look!" Rookie's attention was drawn suddenly by a bright light moving across the sky. Spot dropped her wrists and turned around, just in time to see the shooting star make its final streak before disappearing.

At this, Spot had released her wrists and turned his eyes to sky. When the star disappeared, his eyes lingered on the sky. Rookie couldn't help but look at his expression, it was something she hadn't seen before. He almost seemed…lost for a moment, before he came back and looked at Rookie with a tomcat grin.

"What was that?" she asked him. "That look…you looked…well just about a million miles away…" she trailed off, not knowing how to explain it to him without sounding offensive.

"It's nothin'," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Rookie narrowed her eyes and he shrugged again. "It's just somethin' I remembah someone tellin' me when I was little."

"And that was…?"

"It was me faddah," Spot clarified. "He said that a shootin' star was a soul goin' ta heaven…I nevah really thoughta it as somethin' different."

"I like that," Rookie told him with a smile. "Should we make a wish?"

"I've got nothin' ta wish foah," Spot replied, looking at Rookie in a sideways glance. "What aboutchu, Tiga? What wouldchu wish foah?"

Rookie looked at him for a few good moments. She didn't stare, just looked. Then she looked around the city, and then back at Spot. She felt tears welling up in the back of her eyes, but found her thought slightly humorous and she shook her head with a smile. Spot just looked at her with an expression that said: _"Well? What is it?"_

"Something I can't have…" Rookie admitted, and then immediately felt the blood rush furiously to her cheeks. She had _not_ meant to say that out loud, and she didn't even want to hear herself say it out loud. So she panicked, and was quick to correct herself and plan a quick escape. "Er, I mean…Goodnight Spot…see you soon! " And with those last words she turned from him and nearly ran off down the Manhattan side of the Bridge, into the darkness.

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**Author's Note****:**

**All right, before I get a million comments about this, as some of you know, I had originally gotten the idea for this fic after watching "The Titanic". And I will admit I completely stole that last scene from the deleted scene reel from the Titanic. Mercilessly. I thought it fit in really well with the story (and I hope you guys do too), and that's why I took it and molded it a bit to fit in with Rookie and Spot.**

**So, this chapter was up much faster than Chapter Thirty-Two, huh? **

**I would like to thank all the reviewers from last chapter: **Adrigirl19**,** Mighty Lion**,** Myst. S.**,** elleestJenn**,** newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** Echo Quinlan**, **Random Riter**,** **and **misato**, as well as all those who put me on your author alert/story alert/favorite story. I say this every chapter: I would be _nothing_ without you guys!**

**Title = "Chemicals React" by Aly and AJ. Just listen to the song, and you'll know why I picked it for this chapter.**

**Chapter Thirty-Four is going to be…well…bwhahaha…it'll be out soon, hopefully.**

**Hope you're enjoying!**

**xFlipperx**


	34. It Makes Me Ill

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_  
I do not own Newsies, nor do I claim to._**  
Author's Note****: All right, as I said in the last chapter, this is going to be a "Spot P.O.V" chapter. It's going to be shorter than the others, because I don't want to go too cannon with him and disappoint any of my readers…so here it is!**

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**Chapter Thirty-Four: It Makes Me Ill**

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_**Spot's P.O.V**_

Spot lounged at the top of his throne of crates quite lazily. He lay across the top three crates, back propped slightly against cushions he had stolen from the garbage of the richies. His eyes were closed; hat pulled down so the brim hid his eyebrows and shaded his lids. His pale shirt was unbuttoned halfway and pulled a little bit to the side, welcoming any passing breeze. One could hardly tell it was September 3rd, because the temperatures had once again succeeded to break ninety degrees. After a long, difficult day of selling, he believed fully he deserved the few hours of sunlight remaining to relax.

And at the moment, relaxing was quite an easy task. Only his oldest and best newsies had finished their day of selling and were down at the docks to relax, so it was fairly quiet for a bunch of teenagers rounded into one area. Also, older newsies meant less checks and surveys. Echo, Dazzle, Axel, Spike, Copper, Pick…they knew how to take care of themselves, and didn't need constant lording.

But even though they didn't _need_ constant surveillance, Spot felt it necessary to open his eyes every ten minutes or so, just to make sure. But he wasn't obvious about it. Let his newsies think he was asleep up on his throne, see what they think they could get away with. But as soon as one toe went out of line, _BAM!_ he was there in a second. This maintained a slightly fearful respect between him and his newsies, and it kept them on their toes.

He opened his eyes and took a swift glance around. His second-in-command, Spike, was by the edge of the dock with Copper and Dazzle (who were actually in the water), Axel and Pick were playing cards and sharing a beer in the shade. He didn't see Echo at first glance, which caused him to stir ever so slightly, before he was able to catch her small figure and flash of red-brown hair retreating toward the Bridge. His eyes followed her movements, seeing if he could spot what had caught her attention, but was at a loss. So he watched Echo briefly. She seemed relaxed, so Spot relaxed, closing his eyes once again and rolled his shoulders slightly.

The sun's rays beat hard upon his skin, and he was beginning to get uncomfortable. Thoughts of swimming begin to run in and out of his head, so he began to stir. But as he stirred he stopped, was water really worth moving in this heat? He took a few moments to mull over his decision.

But it was raised voices that forced him to move. He couldn't quite make out what the words were, but it was the tone that caused him to sit up and looked around. Both voices were sharp, aggressively thrown at the other. Spot looked around, and saw two figures moving with haste across the dock.

It was Echo and Rookie. Spot stood up, hoping Echo would see he had taken attention to the situation and watch herself. He waited a few moments, but the two did not stop. In fact, the argument seemed to be gaining severity, and Spot had the sudden urge to run over and throw Echo off the dock to protect Rookie. Part of him, however, was curious to see how Rookie would hold up and handle herself.

They neared the throne of crates (their apparent destination), and their voices became clear. "My instructions were to deliver this note _personally_ to Spot Conlon," Rookie snapped.

"Well you can _poisonally _give the note ta me an' I'll give it ta Spot," Echo replied, nearly snarling. "I told ya, ya ain't goin' anywheah neah him!" They must have been over this already.

"How about I don't give it to you?"

"How 'bout I make you?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Spot decided it was time to intervene. He wanted neither of the newsies to get injured, though he was worried more for Rookie's sake. Though she was a surprisingly good fighter, she couldn't stand up against one of Brooklyn's best…not yet. He looked to his right and saw the others had taken notice of the quarrel. He put his hand up and turned sharply, telling them to keep out of it.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Rookie's exclamation brought Spot to the realization that he must move quickly. He looked back over to the two girl newsies to see them becoming physical. Echo was beginning to encroaching upon Rookie, throwing warning steps, and Rookie seemed to realize she was at loss, and only dodged attacks or swung if Echo got too close.

Spot made his way down his 'throne' and was nearly in the middle of their fight before Rookie took notice of the Brooklyn King and took a few steps back from Echo and stood up straight, showing unfamiliar respect to Spot. He resisted to raise his eyebrow, but figured it was a display for Echo. He looked to his newsie with a hard glare.

"Is dere a problem?" he asked her.

"Just a 'Hattaner that won't do as she's told," Echo snapped. "What else is new?"

"Dat's enuff," Spot silenced, taking a step toward Echo. He was purposely challenging her because he knew she would be forced to back down, a slightly embarrassing display of weakness in front of others. But after an outbreak like that, she deserved to be put in her place. Just as meant, the Brooklynite gave an angry sigh and took a few steps back away from her leader. "Get outta heah," he told her sharply. She looked to Rookie and glared hard, but Spot took a step in between the two girls, clearly showing who he was protecting.

"We's not even a month done wit a war an yoah tryin' ta start anotha one?" Spot snapped incredulously. "I didn't tell ya ta stare at the 'Hattener, I told ya ta get outta heah." Echo's glare turned to Spot before she backed away a few steps and then turned to walk away. Spot told Rookie to 'Wait there' and followed his newsie.

"If you eva do somethin' stupid like dat again I'll kick yoah ass outta Brooklyn," Spot snapped at Echo once they were out of earshot from Rookie. "Do ya know whatya coulda done if we sent her home broken?"

"Yeah, that's all ya care about Spot, 'the war'," Echo snapped back. Spot looked at her incredulously, his eyes hardening into a glare.

"What'dya say, Ech?" he asked her, not expecting a reply. "Ya doubting' me or somethin'? Coz last time I's checked, I was King a' fuckin' Brooklyn an' I knows how ta take care a' meself."

"Do ya, Spot?" Echo questioned. "Ya've been chasin' Rookie for almost a yeah! It's time ta get ova the brood an' move on."

"Don't call her that," Spot warned.

"Spot, I'm worried aboutcha," Echo told him, her voice still tight, arms crossed on her chest. "We's known each otha since we was kids, an' I ain't about ta let some _goil_ mess wit yoah head."

"She ain't messin' wit me head," Spot replied.

"Oh yeah? Then why've ya been on her tail foah eight months, Spot?"

"Why've yous been countin'?" Spot countered. Echo took an exasperated sigh.

"Just _let go_ Spot," she said, nearly pleading. Her tone knocked Spot off-guard for a moment or two, but when her words sunk in a defensive spark flared up inside him. Let go? Of Rookie? He thought of everything they had been through, everything they were going through. He thought of what Rookie was going through, practically on her own. He couldn't just let go of her, he couldn't just abandon her. He wouldn't do that to her, as if any bone in his body would let him.

"I can't let her go, Echo, I _ain't gonna _let her go," he said firmly. "So I wantchu outta my poisonal life an' back out doin' yoah job, ya heah me?" Echo's glare returned, but she nodded curtly. "An if ya evah do anythin' so _stupid _again-"

"Yeah I know," Echo snapped. "I gotta job ta do…lata Spot." And with that, Echo took a few steps back, turned, and then walked off toward the city. Spot took a few deep breaths, and then turned back to Rookie. Now that one bridge was crossed, it was time to get to another.

As he walked back toward her, Spot realized his confusion of why Rookie was in Brooklyn. It was a risk for her to be seen anywhere near him during the day time, especially if that _Suave_ caught wind of it. Suave. That bastard. What Spot would give to run into him in a dark alley and just…he didn't know if he would kill the bastard or just leave him lying in pain. Whatever made him pay for what he had done to Rookie, whatever he deserved.

When Spot reached Rookie, she gave him a half-hearted grin and fished a hand into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to Spot. He took it, but didn't open it. "What's dis?" he asked her.

"Note from Cowboy," Rookie replied with a shrug. "Couldn't tell you what it's about…I was good and didn't peak." She smiled at this, and Spot couldn't help but cracking a smirk. Her smile was contagious to him. He loved the way her nose crinkled just slightly, not obnoxiously like some girls, and how sometimes she would stick her tongue through her teeth if she was biting back a laugh.

"Are you going to read it?" she asked him, and Spot wondered if he had been caught just staring for a while. He shook his head and put the note in his pocket. For later. Rookie was here, now. Business could wait until a little later.

"I's gonna read it lata," he replied. "If I need ta reply, tell 'em I's gonna send one a' my guys ova lata or eoily tomorrow." Rookie nodded, but remained quiet. It was unusual for her to be just silent.

But of course, how could he have forgotten the other night? The words she had said: _"Something I can't have…"_ Spot knew those words were meant for him, but not meant for him to hear. She wouldn't have sprinted away if had been another cause. He had wondered if that night would cause the awkward tension that now lay between them, but hoped to get rid of it.

"So, how's thing's been?" he asked her. It only took four words to change Rookie's whole appearance. It seemed that all the life was sucked out of her.

"Great," she replied suddenly monotone. He saw her fade away into the recesses of her mind. Her eyes glassed over and she seemed to fall into herself. "Just great."

Spot didn't know if it was a combination of the stresses of the previous events and the heat or what, but the protective rage that had rose up in side him earlier had risen tenfold. Vicious thoughts ran through his head…thoughts of what he would do if he ever ran into Suave alone, thoughts of how to help Rookie.

He could always kidnap her. Ask her to come back to the Lodging House, bring her up to his room and then lock her in there. That way, she would never have to face anything that would hurt her again. That sounded like an excellent idea as it ran through his mind. Not returning her to Manhattan at all. Sure there would be suspicion, but people disappear all the time…

_What _was he _thinking_?! Spot shook his head slightly and realized the shear stupidity of the his last thought. Sure, it would keep Rookie away from Suave but what else would it do to her? What could it do to _Spot_? Another war, just a fight could spring up, and he wasn't putting his borough through that again. This was pure insanity.

It was in that moment that he realized that he was falling in way to deep. He was in over his head, somewhere he had never been before, not even with Song. And if he didn't get Rookie soon, the next step _was_ pure insanity. There had to be a way of getting her without resorting to the most drastic of measures, without risking everything he had worked for. He became frustrated at the thought and became frustrated with Rookie. How could she play with his emotions like this? And she knew she was doing it! Spot couldn't deal with this, not now. Not on this hot, disgusting day, not after arguing with one of his most trusted newsies.

"Leave." He told her in one word, looking straight into her eyes.

"What?" she asked. He stared at her. He knew she heard him. "Why?"

"I don't wantcha heah now, just get out," Spot snapped without meaning to. He saw hurt flash across Rookie's face, and he became even more frustrated with himself. This girl had to get out of Brooklyn before he tore his own insides out in anger. He watched her intently, watching the hurt flash across her face turn to anger, watching her soft eyes harden to a glare and her lower lip jut out.

"Fine," she snapped. "Just see if I ever want you near me again Spot Conlon."

What had he just done? He knew those last words were just out of spite, but he had still hurt her. Wasn't this what he was trying to prevent. After she had walked away, he walked behind his thrown and kicked a crate as hard as he could.

"Shit!"

**

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**Author's Note:**

**So, there it was, the dip into Spot's mind, just a little one! Like I said, I don't want to make him _too_ cannon and disappoint/upset anyone. So…yeah…what do you think?**

**The reviews for last chapter were AMAZING, as usual! A big thanks to: **X-Scree Scree-X**,** elleestJenn**,** Mighty Lion**,** RandomRiter**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** massie-conlon**,** newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** HadleyConlon**,** Myst S.**,** Shine Bright Little Star**,** newsieslover1223**, and fanta778 for your wonderful reviews! And thanks to all of you who have favorited the fic, put it on your Alert, put me on your Favorite Authors, or Author Alert! It means the world to me, thank you so much!**

**Chapter Title = It Makes Me Ill - N'SYNC**

**Lots of Love!  
xFlipperx**


	35. Just So You Know

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies fan fiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies._**  
Author's Note:**** So this chapter is ridiculously short. Sorry! Next will be much longer…much better! I promise! This is just one of those chapters that lead to the BANG!**

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Just So You Know**

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Rookie stirred gently the next morning, but when she opened her eyes, something blocked her vision. She sat up quickly, narrowly avoiding hitting the top bunk. Whatever was obstructing her vision fell to her lap, and her eyes followed it. A piece of torn newspaper sat neatly on her lap, and Rookie picked it up with hesitation. She unfolded it and scanned the words hastily scribbled on top of the print.

_**Our place. Now.**_

It didn't take Rookie more than a few moments to realize it was a note from Spot, and only half a second to tear the piece of paper to shreds and stick the pieces in her pocket. Like she was going to go see what Spot left in "their place" in the alley. Absolutely not. Not after the way he had treated her the previous evening. The complete one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn in his personality had thrown her off-guard, and practically given her whip-lash. She wasn't going to forgive him easily for that, not by written note. If he wanted her to forgive him, he would have to apologize in person. She was still angry, and hey, sometimes she wanted to relish in the anger. She was only human.

So she got out of bed, keeping as silent as a mouse, and changed into the day's clothing. When she had washed up, she called Bear out of bed as well and the two headed downstairs to the front desk. Kloppman was standing behind it, bent over a novel of some sorts.

"Good morning, Mr. Kloppman," she greeted. The elderly man looked up and smiled, putting a finger up to tell her to stay where she was. It wasn't until he had ducked underneath the counter that he began talking.

"I found a note addressed ta you on the desk heah, Rookie," he told her, his voice muffled slightly. "Didn't open, just put it right undah heah-oh theah it is." Kloppman reappeared from behind the desk and handed her a folded piece of newspaper. Despite her immediate reaction to tear it up, she thanked Kloppman and walked outside.

Walking outside was like walking into an oven with a slightly cool breeze. What had happened to the dropping temperatures? Rookie sighed, walked down to the last step and then opened the note.

_**Stop bein angry and jus come to the god-damed alley.**_

Rookie raised an eyebrow, reread the note and then put it in her pocket. Man, this boy was persistent. Rookie huffed a sigh, shook her head, and began her way out to the alley. Was that really all it took for her to bend to Spot? Of course it was. He was one of, if not the, closet friend she had. He knew he would have to write a second note to get Rookie to go to the alley. And he risked putting a note on her forehead, and leaving one in the hands of Kloppman. That was effort, and she had to recognize it.

So she found herself walking toward the alleyway. Bear trotted next to her, tongue lopping out of her mouth and tail wagging. "At least one of us is happy about this," Rookie said ruefully, patting her dog on the head. She shook her head to herself and focused her eyes on the alleyway.

She walked in between the two buildings, not even having to count the bricks anymore. Once she was well on her way down, she began looking for the slightly dislodged brick. And when she saw it, she hesitated. Some part of her told her to walk away, to let Spot come to her, face-to-face. But a larger part of her told her to toss that brick aside and see what Spot had to say.

She called Bear to her side, as the young dog was beginning to bark down the alley. When Rookie's eyes had followed her bark, she saw a cat sprint down the way. She had shrugged and shaken her head at her dog. So when Bear had sat down and was given the command to "Stay" she walked over to the brick. She pulled it out, dropped it on the ground and put her hand in the empty slot.

She pulled out a note and a little daisy. _Oh Spot, she_ thought to herself. She couldn't help but smile as she opened the note.

_**Look right.**_

"What?" she murmured to herself, and read the two words over three times before looking up and to her right, down the alley. Leaning against the wall, just in front of an adjoining alley, was Spot Conlon. Rookie was completely thrown off.

So he _did_ come to see her in person. This came as a complete surprise to Rookie, who hadn't expected him to. She had expected to just continue writing her notes to forgive him until it drove her mad and eventually, she forgave him. So to see him there, standing twenty feet away from her or so was a bit of shock.

But when she did regain the power of speech, she was still staggered. "You are such an…" Rookie began, not knowing which word to pick out of her brain. "Idiot." Spot raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I could always leave, if ya want me to…" he trailed off. He was baiting her, and Rookie didn't fall for it. She stood there and shrugged, showing her indifference to the situation. His lips returned to a straight line, and his eyebrow lowered, realizing she was serious.

"Look, I'm sorry foah yestahday," he told her, and once again Rookie was thrown off. "I shouldna said that shit to ya, ya didn't desoive it." Rookie stared at him for a few moments, thinking. She mentally battled herself over whether she should outright forgive Spot. He had come all the way to Manhattan, quite early in the morning, to apologize face-to-face, the day after the event happened. It was like she had no choice.

"You're forgiven, don't worry about it," she told him, the words rolling off her tongue easily, and once the sentence started, without hesitation. But this time Spot gave her a puzzling expression and shook his head gently.

"I shouldn'ta come…ya don't undastand," he told her.

"What?" Rookie said, her eyes widening. She just forgave the boy and he was still practically speaking in tongues. He was pulling her up and down and all around between yesterday evening in this morning, and Rookie wasn't enjoying the ride.

"Ya don't undastand," Spot repeated.

"What don't I understand, Spot?" she asked him, raising her eyebrow and becoming slightly annoyed.

"It's gettin' real hard ta just be around ya Tiga," he said with a small smirk. He rubbed behind his neck and she continued to look on in confusion. She was confused and annoyed all at once, and she had gotten there so quickly she was in a bit of shock. What the hell did Spot mean it was getting hard to be around her? She was about to ask, the silence of the alleyway was broken just before she opened her mouth.

The sound of the Manhattan Newsies coming out of the Lodging House made Rookie jump, but Spot simply looked on. "Just so ya know," he said, looking straight into her eyes. He then slowly backed up into the alley and left her alone, standing in the middle alley, mouth still ajar, drowning in confusion, with a single daisy still clasped in her right hand.

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**Author's Note:**

**Wow. Just over a thousand words. This chapter was S-H-O-R-T! And I apologize, but this was an important-ish part that I didn't think fit in the last chapter and would make the next chapter extremely long and kinda choppy.**

**SO I would like to thank all of you loveys that reviewed Chapter Thirty-Four. Thank you to: **

X-ScreeScree-X**,** ellestJenn**,** RandomRiter**,** Mighty Lion**,** newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** Echo Quinlan**,** XxxEFreakxxX**,** Myst. S**,** the-whiteknight-430**,** **and **scratch conlon** for your wonderful reviews! I can't wait to hear from you guys again, and I hope you guys do choose to review this chapter, despite its extremely pitiful length…**

**This chapter's title is "Just So You Know" and was stolen from the song title from the song by Jesse McCartney. Even if you are not a fan of J-Mac, I recommend you listen to the song; it's really good and explains what's going on with Spot like, perfectly. : )**

**Hope you enjoyed, and until next time,**

**xFlipperx**


	36. MandyI'll Be the One

Only Time Will Tell  
a Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx_  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies_

**Chapter Thirty Six: Mandy/I'll Be the One**

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Rookie sighed as she looked around the streets. Was there a reason that absolutely everyone seem to be avoiding her? All of her usual customers didn't even throw her a glance. She walked over to a window and checked her reflection. She didn't look repulsive or unkempt...well, no more unkempt than usual for a newsie. Her shirt was tucked in, and the more oily parts of her hair were covered by her cap. She had no bruises, no dirt on her face, so there was no reason for her to be avoided.

So then she turned back to her corner and watched as people went by. They all seemed to already have papers. And that was just fabulous. Whoever was getting to her customers first was doing a damn good job of it. Rookie had just sold her fourteenth out of thirty, and by twelve o' clock, usually she had sold all of the morning editions. On a good day, at least.

She supposed that today just wasn't a good day. Or perhaps maybe it was just a bad morning. She looked at the papers in her hand, checked the time in a shop window, and decided she would have to sell the remaining back to the distributor and just buy some copies of the afternoon edition and try a new selling spot. Maybe Central Park would be a good bet. It was turning out to be a pretty nice day. Hot, in the high eighties, but with mixed clouds and a slightly cooler breeze.

Since it was only twelve-fifteen, and the morning editions didn't come out until one-thirty, she decided she would make a quick stop at the Lodging House. While she waited for the afternoon edition, she could attempt to sell the last of her morning editions to anyone she passed, as well as grab her slingshot and practice a little. She was getting the hang of fighting, so why couldn't she get the hang of slingshot-ting?

She walked back to the Lodging House shouting the headlines, twisting them slightly to make them sound more interesting, but shouting them none-the-less. She managed to sell three more, so she was down to selling thirteen back to the distributor, and that was better than sixteen. And who knew? It was possible for her to make a sale or two on the way to the distributor.

Thoughts of selling vanished as she turned down the street to the Lodging House. There was something about going in there, something that made her feel uneasy. Her thoughts reverted back to the last time she had returned to the Lodging House, when she was with Spot. When she discovered Suave with Talker. When everything seemed to go to hell in a hand basket. Those thoughts made her stop for a step, hesitate. Why she felt this way, she didn't know. The one bad experience had engraved itself in her brain and remained there, telling her not to go it.

But to not go in was ridiculous. She was being irrational and paranoid. Talker wasn't even in Manhattan at the moment. And every last second of every last day since the incident, Rookie and Suave had been attached at the hip. Their relationship seemed to be getting stronger, well the physical aspects of it at least. But it was a start, and Rookie was happy to delude herself into thinking things would get better.

So she shook her head and walked toward the Lodging House confidently. She was being ridiculous, irrational, and paranoid. Why should she be afraid to enter her own home? Why would Suave be cheating on her when their relationship had seemed to be growing? It didn't make sense, once Rookie thought about it for a few rational seconds.

But there was some sick sense of foreboding that erupted in her stomach as she walked up the steps and opened the door. It was beginning to make her feel nauseous, which spurred her enthusiasm to get upstairs even quicker. If vomiting was to be her reaction to walking into the Lodging House during the middle of the day, well this was more than ridiculous, it was insane.

_And I'm going to prove I'm insane, _she thought to herself ruefully. Despite the nauseous feeling, she decided to combat her psyche and counter what her instincts told her to do. She would go up to the bunkroom, slowly and carefully. She would peek her head in, just so, and prove to herself there was nothing going on, except the loss of her insanity.

When she walked into the Lodging House, she closed the door carefully behind her and looked around. No one was about, not even Kloppman. She heard what sounded to be like rummaging in the back room (Kloppman's room, where newsies were forbidden from entering), so she decided not to make a big deal and merely slink past the desk and ascend the staircase.

When she reached the landing she held her breath and walked slowly over to the door. Her heart began pounding in her chest, while her head commented how stupid she was acting. She got to the door, which was just slightly open, and peaked in. At first she saw nothing, and smiled, and then she heard voices.

And then she saw them. Suave was slowly backing Talker into a bedpost. His head was bent down, and he was planting kisses on the Queen of Queens' neck. Rookie stuck her fist in her mouth to prevent herself from yelling out and stayed planted in her spot. The embraces and kisses became more intense, and the two wound up falling back on a bunk to continue their dirty rendezvous. Tears were streaming down Rookie's cheeks, and she had bit her fist so hard she broke skin on her index finger.

She couldn't take this, any of it. She couldn't continue to watch, and she couldn't barge in their and stop them. She just couldn't. So silently, still biting her bleeding fist, she walked downstairs and snuck past the front desk again. She left the Lodging House beginning to run, letting the door slam behind her as she did.

Brooklyn. She had to get to Brooklyn. She had to get to Spot.

He was right, he was so right. Suave was cheating on her; he really, truly, was cheating on her. She was just beginning to fathom it, and yet she couldn't believe it. How could he? Why would he? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

When she made it out of the labyrinth of alleyways and onto the open street, she slowed to a walk. She pulled her hat low over her eyes and pulled her fist out of her mouth. She attempted to hide the bit of blood on her hand by cupping it in the other, and pretended that the taste of iron and salt did not linger in her mouth.

Tears fell down her cheeks and off onto her shoulders. She did her best to avoid any Manhattan newsie she saw, and so far she was doing pretty well. At one point she had ducked down an alley and got herself lost, and that nearly set her over the edge. She was on the verge of screaming and kicked the alley wall, letting out a yowl as she did so. Bear startled sharply, and Rookie was so far into herself she didn't attempt to soothe the dog until they had found their way out of the alley.

When the pair finally reached the Brooklyn Bridge, Rookie felt like she was nearly in the clear for Spot. Now all she had to look out for was Echo and any other unfriendly Brooklynites, and she would be safe.

Safe. She never thought she would associate 'Spot Conlon' and 'safe' again. But here she was, and there he was (wherever he was in Brooklyn), and she was running to him for safety. To hide her and protect her from the world, from reality. The first person to have come to her mind. She didn't care if she was being selfish or self-centered, she needed Spot, and she couldn't get over this on her own. She _needed_ Spot, and she didn't care how ridiculous, how self-centered that made her.

When she reached the end of the Brooklyn Bridge, she picked up her pace again. She didn't need to be reminded where the Brooklyn Lodging House was, the memory of her visit with the Manhattan newsies that night that seemed so long ago, seemed fresh in her mind.

But when she found it, she was surprised to see newsies hanging out around outside it. Unlike at the Manhattan Lodging House, it seemed perfectly normal to return to the Brooklyn Lodging House in between selling and relax. She quickly wiped her eyes clear of tears and stuck her chin up. She mustered up what little confidence she felt she had in her and walked toward her.

Unfortunately, the first newsie that met her was Echo. The Brooklyn brunette marched right up to Rookie and met her shoulders squared, fists clenched, ready to fight.

"What doya want, Rookie?" she practically snarled.

"To see Spot," Rookie replied quietly. "It's of utmost importance."

"Oh really? Note from Cowboy?" Rookie shook her head, and the Brooklynite barked a laugh. "Then it ain't that important. Why's don't you tell me what's so important an' I'll pass on the message?" Rookie shook her head again.

"I need to talk to Spot," she replied, the volume of her voice still quiet.

"I don't think ya do," Echo replied, taking a step toward Rookie. Rookie stayed where she was and looked up to meet eyes with the Brooklynite.

"And why's that, Echo?" she said quietly. "Jealous?"

Echo barked a laugh at that comment and shook her head. "If yoah just gonna bring trouble foah our leadah, then you bettah get yoah ass outta heah."

"I'm not bringing trouble," Rookie protested, her voice still low.

"Oh please, ya always bring trouble," Echo snapped, her voice escalating. "An' as long as you show your face, ya gonna bring trouble." Rookie tilted her head to the side in confusion, just a tiny bit.

"Oh like you don't get it," the Brooklynite snapped. "Bullshit Rookie, I know ya do. Ya don't care about Spot; ya just care about the attention he gives you."

"That's not true," the Manhattan newsie said, he voice gaining volume slightly. "He's my friend."

"Really?" Echo snapped. "Ya don't have ta live wit him; ya don't know what goes on when ya walk away. If ya really cared about him, ya'd walk away an' nevah look back."

"If you really cared about your health, you'd follow Spot's orders and stay away from me," Rookie snapped in reply, the volume of her voice skyrocketing. The last comment had dug into her and struck a nerve. Walk away from the only person who forgives her every single time? The one person who hasn't given up on her? Absolutely not.

Echo didn't like her comment, and took another step toward Rookie, and Rookie got ready to fight. But before anyone could throw a punch or a jab or a kick, another Brooklynite stepped in. It was Axel, one of the first Brooklyn newsies Rookie had ever met. He walked over to the girls, who didn't see him until the last second, and stood between them. At first his back faced Rookie, and he talked to Echo.

Echo claimed that Rookie was here to mess with Spot and cause trouble. Rookie knew that was blasphemous, but kept her mouth shut. She was no longer just up against Echo, but now Axel as well. She would be on her best behavior.

Axel turned to her, his eyes narrowed. "If yoah heah to cause trouble, then yous _will _leave," he told her, his voice dripping with loathe.

"I'm not trying to cause trouble," Rookie replied smoothly. "It found me. I just need to see Spot, it's very important." Axel looked straight into her eyes (and Rookie felt straight through) before nodding his head and motioning for her to follow him.

"Spot ain't gonna be back foah another five-ten minutes," Axel told Rookie while the two walked into the Lodging House. "I's gonna show ya to his private quatas and yous can wait foah him there." Rookie nodded her head and agreed.

Axel led Rookie up to Spot's room and stopped at the door. He opened it, watched her walk in, and then began closing the door. "No trouble," he warned before fully pulling the door into the frame and retreating down the stairs. Once his footsteps faded completely, she broke down.

No trouble? All she was, was trouble. Anytime she went _looking_ for Spot, it was because of trouble. Trouble she was in, trouble she found, or trouble she wanted to avoid. But it was trouble. And he was always there. To forgive, if the trouble was her, or to help her through it. Her eyes began to well up again.

She was such a brat. How could she keep doing this to him? How could she call herself a good friend? All she did was lean on him when it was needed him, and then tease him and run away when she didn't, or when they got too chummy. She was really horrible to him, and yet he was always there. She couldn't understand why, or how he was still there, waiting for her. She choked on a sob and shook her head to herself. She began pacing, head down, watching the tears hit the floor.

And then the door opened, and she looked up to see Spot. He closed the door behind him, and his expression became hard, his fists clenched. "What'd da bummah do dis time?" he spat.

"He…and Talker…" she replied, adverting her eyes to the floor. "Again."

"Did ya bust him?" Spot asked, unmoving from is place in front of the door. Rookie shook her head. "Why not? Ya caught him red handed _again._ Ya coulda walked in there and put the bastahd in his place? Why don'tcha just leave him?"

"I don't know!" Rookie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and turning to Spot. "It's just…oh it's so stupid but I just don't want it to be true. Suave was the one person in Manhattan that I could always count on. He was there for me in South Carolina, he was there for me when I returned to New York. He's practically all I have to really hold onto. And even though I saw it twice, there's something inside me that wants it to be a lie, and even a part of me that doesn't care…I'm so botched up."

Spot was silent for a few moments. He just looked at her, and Rookie looked back. She was breathing heavily, and tears were still coming steadily out of the corners of her eyes. "How long did you watch?" he asked her, his tone changed to quiet, gentle.

"Two minutes?" Rookie replied with a shrug.

"Tiga," he said, his voice straining just so. "Suave _cheated _on ya. He was unfaithful. Ya saw it wit yoah own eyes. He cheated on ya, and theah's nothin' ya can do to make it seem like he didn't. He did."

Rookie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and shook her head slightly. She was not denying the fact that Suave had cheated on her, she was incredulous. She couldn't believe that he would do it, but he did. It was a fact.

"You can't keep comin' ta me when he hoits ya unless it's the last time an' yoah leavin' the bastard." Spots voice was one tone, and it had a sharp edge. Rookie's chest clenched at the words, and she opened her eyes and looked up to meet Spot's eyes.

"What, why?"

"Coz every time ya do, I consida goin' out an' killin' the fucka."

"I don't understand…why?"

"Ya know why, Tiga, you've known foah a while."

Of course she knew why. He had true, strong feelings for her. Feelings she didn't necessarily return. And yet she kept going to him, teasing him, leading him on. She felt absolutely horrible with the realization. She shook her head again and bit her lip. She turned her head to the window, where she could see the sun was set lower in the sky through a few missing bars in the tattered, old blinds. She had no idea what time it was, or how long it had taken her to get to Brooklyn.

She walked over to the window, right up to it, and stared out through the space in the blinds and into Brooklyn. She let out a shaky sigh and crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself. She felt like she was holding herself together, if she let go everything would fall off. She heard Spot's footsteps approach her, and expected him to say something, but he didn't.

Without saying a word, he slipped his arms through hers and wrapped them tightly around her middle. Rookie was only momentarily surprised, but then she relaxed into his embrace. She could not resist him anymore. She folded her arms across her chest now, relaxed her shoulders and back, and leaned into Spot. He stood there silently, holding her tightly, almost rocking her. Without words, he was telling her she was okay, she was safe.

"I t'ink ya should spend a few days in Brooklyn," he finally said as he put his chin on her shoulder. The tone of his voice was soft, but Rookie knew it wasn't a suggestion. She nodded her head slowly, agreeing.

"But how could I get away?" she asked, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his cheek and putting her hands on his arms, which were still wrapped tight around her middle. It was as if he was afraid to let go. Afraid that Rookie would fall apart. _Afraid that I'll run away_, a thought bounced through her head. She was relieved when he finally spoke.

"Tawk to Cowboy."

"Okay."

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**Author's Note**

**So I've made you wait a month, and for that I am really sorry. I almost failed math (and still waiting for final grade 0-o…so yeah, I had to spend some time to devote to my studies.**

**A HUGE thanks to all who reviewed the teeny tiny last chapter: **newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O**,** Kelsey Gwendolyn007**,** Echo Quinlan**,** Mighty Lion**,** RandomRiter**,** ellestJenn**,** Myst. S.**,** Kim**, **misato**,** MushSpotgoil**,** **and **devilnangel**. I love ya'll so much for well, loving this fic so much and being so supportive. I hop you enjoyed this chapter as well, along with all those who don't review, and all those who have put me on their Author Alert/Story Alert/Favorite Stories list. I appreciate it to no ends.**

**Hope ya'll enjoyed the chapter, and I know I say this every time, but -hopefully- the next will be out soon.**

**Chapter title comes from "Mandy" by Barry Manilow (put Rookie in Barry's part), and "I'll Be the One" by the Backstreet Boys (put Spot in the boys' place). Listen to the songs. They're each very good.**

**Sincerely,  
xFlipperx**


	37. You Got It, You Got It

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx  
_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of the characters affiliated with the title, movie, plot, etc…_

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: You Got It, You Got It**

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Rookie had walked this road so many times -often under the cover of darkness- and yet she felt lost. She couldn't keep her fingers from playing with her hair, and she glanced over her shoulder every few steps. She moved with a usual haste, but often had to slow to take deep gulps of air. For whatever reason, she was overcome with emotion, on the verge of tears.

Was she doing the right thing? She wasn't sure. What would the Manhattan Newsboys think when they return to find her gone? How would Suave react when he found the note she left him?

No. She couldn't think about him. She couldn't care what he did.

But the others…She cared about them. She cared what they thought and how they reacted. She wanted so badly to turn around and walk straight back to the Lodging House. But she knew that she needed to get away for a few days. It was for her own good, and maybe one day the Manhattan newsboys would know exactly where she was and why. At least she had gotten to Jack first.

**-Earlier that Evening-**

"_Cowboy thank goodness I found you…I need to talk to you alone." _

_Rookie was hoping that Jack would be one of the first newsies she saw. Unfortunately she had already passed Kid Blink, Racetrack, Bumlets and Mush, and she was agonizing over leaving what she now knew as her home behind. As she searched the streets for the Leader of Manhattan, she seriously considered staying within the bounds of what she considered 'the safety of Manhattan'. But as soon as she saw Cowboy, she remembered that she would return to the 'safety of Spot Conlon'._

_ "What's up, Rook?" Jack asked once he had pulled her aside._

_ "I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving—oh gosh not forever, just for the weekend."_

_ Jack looked at her reproachfully. "Wheah y'goin?" he asked her._

_ Rookie bit her lip and then replied: "To South Carolina. I'm hopping a train tonight, and I'll be back Monday."_

_ "Why the hell areya goin' to South Carolina?" was Jack replied._

_ "I've been having trouble sleeping," Rookie replied, which wasn't a complete lie. "All these crazy dreams…I've just got to go back and make some peace."_

_ "And you'll be back on Monday?" Jack clarified._

_ "Monday evening," Daisy said specifically. "I'll leave tonight, get there tomorrow afternoon. I know a few newsies down there, so I'll stay with them. Sunday morning I'll do what I have to do, then be on the evening train back here."_

_ "Suave going with ya?" _

_ "No, he doesn't even know that I'm going. But he knew that I've been feeling this way. I'm going to leave him a note. It's only a few days."_

_ "Is everythin' all right between you two?" Jack looked at Rookie, who adverted her eyes and shrugged." _

_ "It's been a little rocky," she admitted. "I think a little time away will do us good."_

_ "As long as your back Monday evening." Jack's voice was firm. He was not being her friend with this statement. He was being the leader of the Manhattan newsies. Rookie nodded fervently, but Jack continued: "Any lata' than that wit-out a good excuse…and ya won't be welcome."_

_ "I understand…you'll tell the boys?" _

_ Jack nodded._

_ "And if I write a note to give to Suave, will you give it to him?"_

_ Once again, the leader nodded._

_ From there, Rookie went quickly to packing. She grabbed mostly things she could put in her pockets, like her slingshot and the money she had been saving. She also grabbed her "Wizard of Oz" book. She was positive she wouldn't be selling with the Brooklyn newsies, so she might as well have something productive to do. She almost forgot her nightdress, and for a moment she didn't know what to do with it or how to carry it around. So she decided to wrap it around her book and carry it in-hand._

_ Rookie's note to Suave was short and very to-the-point. She told him exactly what she had told Cowboy and signed her name at the bottom. Nothing more, only what she considered Suave 'needed to know'. She walked over to Jack—who was waiting at the door of the bunkroom as a sentry on the lookout for the others—and handed the note to him._

_ "Thank you for this, Cowboy," she told him with a smile. "I really, really, appreciate it."_

_ "Just be back Monday." _

_ "I will."_

_ "An' be careful, don't get inta any trouble, all right?"_

_ Rookie nodded and shook Jack's hand. The last thing she did before she left was attach the leather leash she had gotten from her mother onto Bear's rope collar. She had grown out of her leather one earlier that month._

_ She thanked Jack one more time, promised him that she would be back on Monday, and then left. For Brooklyn._

Rookie sighed as she made her way into Brooklyn. Now, she was on the lookout. She had to be especially wary for Echo. She imagined that Spot had told his newsies about his visitor, but she couldn't be sure of how some of them would react. So she kept her head up and her tearing eyes peeled. She tightened her hold on Bear's leash and brought the dog closer to her body.

"Tiga!" Spot seemed to come out of nowhere, from behind some alleyway. He approached her. When he saw the tears shining against her cheeks, he took her hand and smiled at her. "Yoah heah now, you're safe."

Rookie smiled at him and nodded her head. "I hope so."

"Hey, when has I evah steahed ya wrong?"

Rookie looked up at him and he shook his head. "Foggetabout that," he told her, and then squeezed her hand. "Now c'mon, ya gotta be tired."

"Exhausted."

The two walked to the Brooklyn Lodging House slowly. They walked close together, with their shoulders constantly bumping into each other. Every time they did, Rookie smiled just a bit. She felt so safe with spot, and any physical contact with him affirmed that feeling.

When they reached the Lodging House, there was no one outside, and they met no one on their way to Spot's bedroom. "I told 'em to give us some space," Spot explained as he opened his door. "So's ya wouldn't feel uncomfortable, all right?" Rookie nodded and thanked him. "Ya probably need some sleep, right?"

Rookie nodded her head. "Anywhere I can change?"

Spot smirked. "Oh Tige, I won't look." Rookie was incredulous.

"My batroom is right theah, I was only messin' wit-ya. You can take a showa if ya need to."

Rookie glared at Spot and shook her head. She unwrapped The Wizard of Oz from her nightgown and then slipped into what Spot called his bathroom. It was a tiny, five-by-five-foot closet with a standing shower and a toilet. Closing the door behind her only made her feel claustrophobic, and the tiny shower didn't make her feel any better.

She stripped down and turned on the water. It was freezing cold, but felt good in contrast to the extreme heat of the summer day. Originally, she was only going to run her hair through with water to get the oil, but she discovered a small ledge with a bar of soap on it. She picked it up and sniffed it.

_Lavender? _She thought to herself with a smile. _Spot uses lavender soap?_ Well, she knew Spot liked to live in the lap of luxury, or at least pretend like he did. She ran her hands over a few times until it lathered, and then ran her soaped fingers through her hair. She washed off all the suds left on the soap and replaced it back on the ledge.

After the soap was rinsed out of her hair and she had pulled out every knot, Rookie turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She looked around but did not find a towel so used her shirt to dab herself dry. She then wrung out her hair in the shower and shook out as much loose water until it was only damp. The claustrophobia was setting in, so she quickly braided her hair and slipped into her nightdress.

When she walked out of the bathroom-closet, she quickly surveyed the room while Spot stared outside the window. There was only one bed.

_Oh God,_ Daisy thought to herself. _This is going to be…interesting at the least._

"Tiga ya look like a goil!" Spot declared when he had turned around. Rookie looked to him and glared, throwing one of her shoes at his head. Spot moved a step to the side and caught it with the hand that wasn't grasping his cane.

Rookie sighed and looked down at her damp shirt. "Anywhere I can hang this?" she asked. "I kind of used it as a towel…"

Spot chuckled. "Ya coulda pokedya head out and asked me foah one." Rookie didn't reply, she just shrugged. Spot looked around the room briefly. "Ya can hang it over the bed post."

Rookie did just that, and then turned and faced Spot. "Thanks again…I need this."

"I know," Spot replied. He paused and watched Rookie try to stifle a yawn. "All right, it's time foah you ta get some shut-eye. I's only got one bed but ya can sleep on one side, I'll sleep on the otha and the dog can sleep in the middle."

Rookie nodded and walked over to the bed. "Which side do you prefer?" she asked him.

"Yoah the guest."

Rookie picked the side closest to the wall, and then had Bear jump up next to her. Spot walked over to the bed. Rookie felt so odd looking up at him, knowing that he would join her in bed. Her heart raced, and she watched anxiously as Spot climbed in besides Bear.

"Night Tiga," Spot said quietly. He reached his hand over the pup, extending it to Rookie.

Rookie took his hand and squeezed it. "Night, Spot. And thanks…for everything."

"Sleep good, we's gotta a big day tomarra."

_Big day?_ Rookie thought to herself as she let of Spot's hand and placed it on Bear. _What does that even mean?_

"Already asleep?" Spot asked.

"Oh, no," Rookie quickly replied. "Sweet dreams, Spot. See you in the morning."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ahhhh-hahaha…..I am SO sorry it's taken forever to update. I do have a good excuse though. My summer was filled to the brim. There were vacations, and I had shoulder surgery, and then when school started, ahh I've been focusing on senior year, you know? So I kind of lost interest but I believe now I'm back and I'm going to try and update as much as possible.

Thank you to every reviewer and 'favorite author'-er and 'favorite story'er and 'story' and 'author update'-er. You have no idea how much I appreciate you guys. This fanfiction wouldn't exist without you guys.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Title = "You Got It, You Got It" by Paramore

**Always,  
****Flipper**


	38. About You Now

Only Time Will Tell  
A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx  
_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney does._  
**Chapter Thirty-Eight: About You Now**

**

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Rookie felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead. Why was she so warm? She went to wipe it from her forehead, but she felt restricted. She opened her eyes and looked around. For a second, she had forgotten where she was. She realized whom the bare arm draped over her midsection and lower arm belonged to, and smiled.

She thought her initial reaction would be more surprised, more reluctant to his touch. But Rookie felt extremely comfortable (mentally, at least, she was a little sweaty on the outside), and so safe. She turned her head just slightly to find that Bear had moved to the foot of her bed, Spot had removed his shirt, and his chest and her back were almost touching. Her heart raced again, and the bead of sweat fell to the pillow. Rookie clasped Spot's hand in her own and leaned her head toward him.

"Yoah hair smells familiyah," Spot murmured. Rookie's heart skipped a beat. She felt Spot squeeze her hand, and then his face pressed against the back of her head. "Like lavendah…hmm I wondah wheah that could be from?"

"I'm sorry," Rookie mumbled. "I just needed to get my hair clean…I should have asked."

"Foggetaboutit Tiga," Spot replied, pressing his forehead to the back of her own. "I don't mind."

_Is this really happening?_ Rookie thought to herself. She could feel her blood pulsing in her ears. _This has to be going too far…'Just friends' don't do this._

Thankfully, Rookie was saved by a knock on the door. "Ya up, Spot?" a gruff voice from behind the door called.

"Yeah Jackson, I'll be out in a second," Spot called back, his face still buried in Rookie's hair. His hot breath on the back of her neck made Rookie more uncomfortable, so she let go of his hand and sat up slowly. Spot followed her movement, and Rookie could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

"Can I use the bathroom to get dressed or do you need to shower?" Rookie asked him, looking down at her fingers.

"Yeah I gotta showa, you can change in heah."

"Thanks."

Spot slid off his bed, grabbed the day's clothes off of a chair in the corner, and walked into the bathroom. When Rookie heard the shower start, she got off the bed and changed quickly into her day clothes, not knowing how long Spot took in the shower.

When she had dressed, Rookie sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. A comb, how could she have forgotten her comb? She shook her head as she pulled knots apart carefully. She got a whiff of the smell—Spot's lavender—and wondered why she never actually smelled the scent on the King of Brooklyn.

_Probably because he doesn't want to get killed,_ she thought to herself with a smile. She heard the shower stop and quickly began to re-braid her hair.

As she braided and listened to Spot moving around in the closet-bathroom, she wondered what they were going to do today. Spot had said that it was a 'big day' today, and she could only wonder what was on Spot's mind.

"Ready ta go?" Spot asked as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Hmm?"

"Ta breakfast?"

"Oh, uhm…I…" Rookie couldn't help but feel nervous about going to breakfast with the Brooklynites. She couldn't help but wonder what the others thought of her staying in their Lodging House, and she was absolutely terrified of how they were going to treat her. Obviously Spot would cause physical harm to anyone who tried to hurt (physically or emotionally) Rookie, but she couldn't always be by Spot's side.

"You'll be fine, Tiga," Spot replied. "No one's gonna botha ya. An' don't worry. We's only gonna sell in the mornin', and then I gotta big aftanoon planned."

"Okay." Rookie's voice was small, and her volume was near silent.

Rookie and Bear walked over to Spot and the three walked downstairs. "Things woik a little differently heah. We get soived breakfast…but afta eating this crap you'll be missin' that nun cart you 'Hattaners got."

Rookie cleared her throat uncomfortably as she nodded. "Is it possible that I could give some of that for Bear?"

"Shoah, I'll arrange somethin'."

The Brooklyn Lodging House was rather large. On the top floor, besides Spot's room there were two separate bunkrooms, one large one for the majority of guys who boarded, and a smaller one for the girls. On the bottom floor there was a cafeteria-styled room. Two long tables reached nearly from wall to wall, bowls, utensils, and food were provided.

Rookie began playing with her hands as she and Spot walked into the room. Eyes moved from her to Bear, and back to Rookie. She looked to Spot, who was heading to the line for breakfast. She followed him closely. He took two bowls, and asked for two scoops in one of the bowls.

"Feedin your girlfriend a lil' extra, Spot," one of his newsies remarked. Spot handed her the two bowls and then smacked the commenter on the back of the head.

"Watch yoah mouth, Sawya," he snapped. "Keep yoah nose to yoahself." Sawyer grumbled an apology and Spot turned his attention back to Rookie. He took the bowl with less oatmeal in and the two of them went to the head of the farthest table.

The two ate in silence. Rookie ate half of her bowl so Bear could have the rest. She glanced around the room and down the table she was sitting at. It seemed as if no one was paying attention to them, so she looked to Spot. "Can I just give her the bowl?" she asked him.

"Yeah, go ahead," Spot replied. "That'll be her bowl for the weekend."

"Thanks, Spot."

Rookie placed the bowl on the floor in front of Bear. Not at all curious about this new food, just purely excited that it was new, the pup stuck her muzzle right into the bowl.

"Does she need wata or anything?" Spot asked.

Rookie shook her head. "She'll lap up from puddles or I'll get her a glass for lunch, but thank you for asking." Spot smiled and looked down at the dog. Rookie watched him, and suddenly his expression changed into a hard glare and his head turned up. She watched him carefully. Whoever he was glaring at, Spot held his glare for almost half a minute before looking down at Bear.

"I think she's done," he stated. Rookie looked down and saw that Bear was presently licking the residue off the bowl. "Ready ta go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied uneasily.

Spot raised his eyebrows at Rookie and shook his head. "C'mon Tiga."

Rookie and Bear followed the King of Brooklyn out of the Lodging House. Rookie focused on the back of Spot's head, trying not to look at anything or anyone else. She didn't want to start trouble, and she certainly didn't want to make Spot's life any tougher.

"We just have to be careful around…you know…my old place," Rookie said quietly. "I know they think I'm dead, and the chance of running into them would be slim to none…I just don't want any accidents."

"Way aheada ya," Spot replied. "We's goin' to the park this morning. That way we get lots of customers, and afta we do our sellin', theah's a lot to do." Rookie nodded, impressed with Spot's planning.

Selling went easier than Rookie expected. The only trouble occurred when Rookie recognized a few people, but Spot was able to sell them papers while Rookie hid behind a tree. It only took them until ten-thirty to sell all their papers. Rookie had sold twenty, while Spot sold fifty. The two of them decided to grab lunch at a local delicatessen, and then would return to the park to sit and enjoy it by the pond. They both got sandwiches, and drank a glass of water at the delicatessen.

"We don't usually eat lunch," Rookie commented as she broke her sandwich in half to share with Bear. "This is like a treat for us, right Bear?" Out of the corner of her eye, Rookie noticed Spot look over as she handed her dog a sandwich.

"You guys don't each lunch?" he questioned.

"Not usually, it can get a little too expensive."

"How much are ya sellin'?"

"Not enough." Rookie shook her head with a smirk on her lips.

"So how are ya affordin' it now?"

"I've got a few extra pennies on me."

The two continued to eat in silence while Bear lay down at their feet. Rookie looked around the park. Her eyes grazed the area; over the pond and the faces of the people. A few were familiar, which sparked her interest. She no longer felt the tug of homesickness in her chest. There was nothing to miss about that life anymore, there was nothing she could possibly miss.

A couple Rookie recognized from the Pulitzer's many gala's and parties were walking down the path in front of her and Spot. Rookie couldn't recall exactly who they were—neither their individual names nor their surname—but she didn't want to take any chances. She turned her whole body away from Spot and set her focus on Bear.

"You all right, Tige?"

"Fine—I'm uhh…I recognize that couple," Rookie replied. "I doubt they'd remember me, but I just want to make sure, you know?"

"I know."

Rookie wondered if she sounded pretentious or conceded, figuring that this couple she hardly knew would recognize her. But she couldn't help it. She had been a pretty big name when she _was_ Brooklyn Pulitzer, and both her 'kidnapping by newsies' and 'death' had been a well-known, published topic. Rookie didn't want to risk being brought back to a life she despised, away from all the freedoms she had come to know and love. The people she had come to know and love better than she had ever known or loved her mother and sister.

Once the couple passed without incident, Rookie leaned back onto the bench and sighed in relief. She looked to Spot, who held her eye contact for a few seconds.

"What?" Rookie asked.

"Just that yoah still so afraid of bein' found."

"It's always somewhere in the back of my mind, you can definitely say that I'm more than a little paranoid."

"Well ya should know now that ya nevah gotta worry 'bout that. No one's gonna find you, an' if they do, ya gotta hell of-a lotta guys ready ta protect you."

Rookie nodded, acknowledging the fact. Spot reached over and put a hand on her knee. Rookie looked up, making eye contact with him again while he told her: "I would nevah let ya get taken away again. Evah."

Rookie placed her hand on top of the one Spot had placed on her leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Spot," she said. "No one could ever ask for a better friend. There is just no one like you…"

"I know that," Spot replied with a sly smile. "An' I'm just so great that I gotta an idea that yoah gonna like."

"Oh really?"

"Really really."

The two stood up, Rookie took Bear's leash, and the two set off for the first real activity of their 'big day'. Spot lead the way with Rookie a step behind, following him like a puppy. Once they had reached a certain pathway, though, Rookie had the tiniest inkling of where they were going.

_He couldn't have remembered—it was so long ago,_ Rookie thought doubtfully to herself.

But Spot proved her wrong, and proved what a spectacular memory he possessed. At the edge of the park was the stable where some carriage horses and riding horses were kept. It was mostly a spot for 'richies' who could afford to ride around the park or keep their horses away from their own property.

"We don't have enough money to ride…" Rookie said.

"I know," Spot replied. "But I know one-a the hands an' he said he'll let us just look around and pet an' feed the horses an' that stuff—I know how much ya love 'em an' all that."

Rookie blushed and thanked Spot. Her mind was boggled over how he could remember such a minute detail about her. It might have come up in conversation once, maybe twice, about how much Rookie loved horses. To remember that she loved them, to know that taking her to see them would probably be the best thing to do with her, showed Rookie how much Spot cared about her.

Her chest tightened as she watched Spot meet with the stable hand he knew. She couldn't believe that he would pull strings for her to see something that she loved. Well, she could, but a part of her hated to see him do it. She knew she cared about him, at this point it was futile to even try to deny it, but she still felt the tiniest bit of loyalty to Suave. She felt that somehow—even though so far, their relationship had been completely platonic—that she and Spot were doing something very wrong.

But those feelings and those fears melted away as they entered the barn. It was not the cleanest, most beautiful place that Rookie had ever seen, but to see the horses was wonderful. Spot grimaced at the smell, but Rookie had become so accustomed to it that it no longer phased her. Being around the horses made her miss her uncle, but it also made her feel completely relaxed. The gentle nickers and the occasional whinny soothed the tightness in Rookie's chest.

When it was time to leave, it was around two o'clock. Rookie wanted to ask what was next on the agenda, but she had lost herself in memories. Her uncle's plantation—how it was before the fire—kept replaying over and over in her mind. When she thought of the plantation, she thought of Dawson. She thought of him before his 'transformation' into Suave. Brooklyn really loved Dawson, but Rookie. Rookie really loved—

Rookie looked over to Spot and bit her lip. When Spot looked over to her, she turned her head away.

"Do ya know how to swim?" Spot asked her.

"Not at all; I was never taught."

"I'll teachya ta-night then, when no one's around."

"I'd rather not," Rookie said with a shake of her head.

"'Scuse me?"

"I'd rather not learn how to swim, because I won't learn how and I'll drown and I'll die."

Spot laughed and shook his head. "Like I'd evah let ya drown. Don't ya have any faith in me at all?"

"Of course I have faith in you, Spot," Rookie quickly recovered. "It's me I don't have any faith in."

Spot '_pft_'ed and shook his head again. "Oh Tiga, Tiga. What am I goin ta do witya?"

"Keep me safetly on dry land, please-and-thankyou." Before Spot could respond to that, Rookie quickly added: "So what are we up-to next?"

"What doya wanna do?"

"I still like the park, if you don't mind?"

Spot agreed. The two walked around almost the entirety of the park, until they returned the entrance that pointed them back to the lodging house. While passing a shop window, Rookie looked in and caught the time. It was just about three-thirty, and it would take them about a half an hour to get back to the house.

"Will anyone be back by now?" Rookie asked.

"Ya gotta be a little sociable, Tiga," Spot replied.

"I would love to be sociable and friendly," Rookie replied. "It's just a known fact that I'm not the most well-liked 'Hattaner to ever walk the grounds of Brooklyn."

"I know, but prove it my fellas, an' they'll foahgive and foahget. Ya just gotta prove that yoah trustworthy."

"I don't think I'll ever get through to Echo, though," Rookie replied. "Not after-" Rookie stopped and shook her head, remember that she had never ratted Echo out for attacking her when Manhattan invaded Brooklyn. So instead she covered with: "Well, I'm sure you remember…"

"Yeah I remember," Spot replied his voice dropping in volume. "Echo…She's a completely different story, Tiga. We's been friends a long time. I gotta get t'rough ta her before anyone else does."

Rookie let the subject drop there. She bit her lip and looked away from Spot. Her chest tightened as they neared the Lodging House. She didn't want to socialize, not with Brooklynites. She couldn't help but feel that everyone had some secret vendetta against her. Whether it was because she was a Manhattan newsie or it had something to do with her friendship with Spot. Or both.

When they got back to the Lodging House, there were a few newsies out and about. Rookie recognized them, but couldn't identify them by name. As Spot walked over to them, she fell a step behind him and tightened her hold on Bear's leash. Spot began talking easily to the three newsies who were lounging on the front steps. Rookie watched warily, until one of them finally turned to her.

"Ya know, we don't really bite unless prah-voked." From listening on the conversation, the brunette who had addressed Rookie was called 'Tap'. Her statement seemed friendly enough, so Rookie cracked a smile and shook her head.

"My nerves are a little obvious, huh?"

"No shit." Tap's reply was joined by one of the guys, Brew, and Spot.

"Relax, kid," Brew added. "Ya seem like a pretty nice goil, no need ta be so tense."

Rookie smiled at them and murmured "Thanks." She pushed a hair behind her ear and slowly became more active in the conversation. The topic was sales, and how they had gone down in the past few weeks. Rookie confirmed that sales in Manhattan had taken a slight plunge as well.

"It's those fuckin' da-livery boys," Brew commented. "Why go out an' get a pape when one's delivahed to yoah front door?"

Rookie looked over to Spot as Brew made that statement. She thought—just for a moment—that she saw a change in Spot's demeanor. Something just didn't seem right. But in the next moment he was back to himself.

Around five o'clock, Tap, Brew, and the other newsie Rookie didn't catch the name of all had to return to 'carrying the banner' for the evening edition. When they left, Spot and Rookie made their way to Spot's bedroom. As soon as they had made it up the stairs, Bear leaped right up onto the bed and put her head between her paws.

"Someone's comfortable," Spot said with a smirk, shaking his head.

"Do you want me to tell her to get off?" Rookie offered.

"Nah, let 'er get some rest."

Rookie stifled a yawn, envying Bear's ability to simply lie down and sleep wherever she pleased.

"Ya tired?" Spot observed.

"A little," Rookie replied, letting the yawn release itself.

"Take a nap wit yoah dog."

Rookie raised an eyebrow at Spot's suggestion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean lay down an' take a nap if ya wanna," he replied. "If I's gonna teach ya how ta swim tonight yoah gonna need ta be fully awake."

"About that whole 'swimming' thing, Spot…"

"Don't worry yoah head off, Tiga. Take a nap, I'll wake ya befoah dinna."

"Are you just trying to get rid of me for a little while."

"Ya got me," Spot smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Knew it," Rookie replied, her tone completely serious. But despite their teasing of each other, she did give in to the luxurious call of an afternoon nap. It was a special treat that could hardly ever be utilized, and this was her weekend to relax, so she decided to take advantage.

"I'll getcha in a few hours, okay?" Spot told her. "Ya won't be distoibed."

Without opening her eyes or moving her head from the pillow, Rookie raised a 'thumbs up' to the King of Brooklyn. Her hand fell back to the bed with a thud. She heard Spot chuckle as he walked away from the bed. The door closed, and Rookie was left in complete silence, in complete relaxation.

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**Author's Note:**

**All right, so I hope that this chapter was a little more satisfactory than the last. It was just that I was just getting back into the story and I needed to 'reconnect' with the characters and the plot and all that jazz.**

**A HA-UGE thank you to my wonderful reviewers who have stayed faithful to Rookie and Spot and the rest of the gang despite my huge hiatus! **Xx-Twitch-xX**,** X-Screescree-X**, **3**,** Mushspotgoil**, and** Myst. S**, you and all my non-reviewing-readers are SO WONDERFUL. I love you, Rookie loves you, and Spot loves you.**

**Title Credit goes to: "About You Now" by Miranda Cosgrove**

**As always,  
****xFlipperx**


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